“Oh, yes, the most noble of noble hearts,” repeated the Bohemian, with transport; “he deigned, he so grand, he so powerful, to come, for five days, every evening into our poor dwelling. How shall I tell you of his touching, almost filial kindness? Alas, if my mother had not been stricken with a mortal disease, the songs of the emir would have saved her, for the effect they produced on her was wonderful. But she died at last without suffering, in a profound ecstasy. This guzla, it once belonged to the emir; he gave it to me. Thanks to it the last moments of my mother were peaceful,--poor mother!” A tear glittered a moment in the black eye of the Bohemian; then, as if he wished to drive away these painful memories, he took up his guzla quickly and recited these other stanzas in a proud and excited voice, as he made his sonorous instrument resound: “The name of the emir is sacred in his tribe; let him but speak and we will die. “Not one is more brave; not one is more beautiful; not one is more noble. “He is hardly twenty years old, and his name is already the terror of other tribes. “His arm is delicate like that of a woman, but it is strong like that of a warrior. “His face is smiling, is beautiful like that of the spirit who appears in the dreams of young girls; but it is sometimes terrible like that of the god of battles. “His voice charms and seduces like a magic philter, but sometimes it bursts forth like a clarion.” In his enthusiasm, the Bohemian approached Reine and said to her, as he opened the medallion set into the neck of the guzla: “See! see if he is not the most beautiful of mortals!” The young girl looked at the portrait, and uttered a cry of surprise, almost of terror. The portrait was that of the stranger in the rocks of Ollioules, who had saved the life of her father! At that moment the door of Reine’s drawing-room was opened, and she saw before her Honorât de Berrol, followed by Captain Luquin Trinquetaille, who had just arrived from Nice on the tartan, _The Holy Terror of the Moors, by the Grace of God_. CHAPTER XIV. JEALOUSY When Honorât de Berrol entered Reine’s apartment, Stephanette wished to retire so as to leave the two lovers alone. She took one step toward the door, but Reine said to her, quickly, in a voice full of emotion, “Remain.” Then, scarcely able to control her feelings, she bowed her head and hid her face in her hands. Honorât, astonished beyond expression, did not know what to think. The Bohemian had closed the medallion containing the portrait of Erebus, and had placed it on the table. The captain of the _Holy Terror to the Moors_ vainly tried to catch Stephanette’s eye, but she seemed as anxious to avoid his glance. Luquin Trinquetaille was the more sensible of her conduct inasmuch as he recognised on the Bohemian’s collar the flame-coloured ribbon, which was the exact counterpart of what Stephanette wore on her waist.