As she spoke, a sudden blaze of light flamed on the scene, and twenty tall Egyptian servants in white, with red turbans, carrying lighted torches and marching two by two crossed the court, and by mute yet stately gestures invited the company to follow. And the company did follow in haste, with scramble and rudeness, as is the way of “European manners” nowadays; and presently, having been relieved of their cloaks and wrappings, stood startled and confounded in a huge hall richly adorned with silk and cloth of gold hangings, where, between two bronze sphinxes, the Princess Ziska, attired wonderfully in a dim, pale rose color, with flecks of jewels flashing from her draperies here and there, waited to receive her guests. Like a queen she stood,--behind her towered a giant palm, and at her feet were strewn roses and lotus-lilies. On either side of her, seated on the ground, were young girls gorgeously clad and veiled to the eyes in the Egyptian fashion, and as the staring, heated and impetuous swarm of “travelling” English and Americans came face to face with her in her marvellous beauty, they were for the moment stricken spellbound, and could scarcely summon up the necessary assurance to advance and take the hand she outstretched to them in welcome. She appeared not to see the general embarrassment, and greeted all who approached her with courteous ease and composure, speaking the few words which every graceful hostess deems adequate before “passing on” her visitors. And presently music began,--music wild and fantastic, of a character unknown to modern fashionable ears, yet strangely familiar to Armand Gervase, who started at the first sound of it, and seemed enthralled. “That is not an ordinary orchestra,” said Dr. Dean in his ear. “The instruments are ancient, and the form of melody is barbaric.” Gervase answered nothing, for the Princess Ziska just then approached them. “Come into the Red Saloon,” she said. “I am persuading my guests to pass on there. I have an old bas-relief on the walls which I would like you to see,--you, especially, Dr. Dean!--for you are so learned in antiquities. I hear you are trying to discover traces of Araxes?” “I am,” replied the Doctor. “You interested me very much in his history.” “He was a great man,” said the Princess, slowly piloting them as she spoke, without hurry and with careful courtesy, through the serried ranks of the now freely chattering and animated company. “Much greater than any of your modern heroes. But he had two faults; faults which frequently accompany the plentitude of power,--cruelty and selfishness. He betrayed and murdered the only woman that ever loved him, Ziska-Charmazel.” “Murdered her!” exclaimed Dr. Dean. “How?”