Sonia Danidoff, who was not ignorant of the dramatic adventures imputed to this legendary hero, could not bear to think of the position she had been placed in that awful night, when, threatened and robbed by Fantômas, she had escaped death by a series of unknown and unguessable circumstances: the tormenting mystery of it all had preyed insistently upon her mind. Since then Sonia Danidoff had never taken a bath without thinking of Fantômas; and every year when the anniversary of his attack came round, she suffered cruelly: she was seized with wild, unreasoning fears at the idea that she might see this terrifying bandit appear before her again, and that this time he would be merciless.

Nadine knew all this. She also shuddered at the vision this horrible anniversary evoked, but controlling herself, she was anxious to change the current of her dear mistress’s thoughts.

“Forget, try to forget, Sonia Danidoff,” she counselled in her melodious voice. “You are going to a ball – at Monsieur Thomery’s – at your fiancé’s house!” The Princess shuddered.

“Ah, Nadine, my Nadine!” she cried, raising herself, and regarding her maid with a strange look: “I cannot overcome my uneasiness – my alarms!... This coincidence of date agitates me... You know how superstitious we are at home – in our Russia – and the life I lead in Paris has not destroyed in me the simplicity of soul of a daughter of the steppes!”

Nadine did not know what reply to make to this pathetic outburst. The Princess went on:

“And then, do you see, I think it wrong of Monsieur Thomery to even want to give this ball, only a fortnight after the tragic death of that poor Baroness de Vibray! I tried to dissuade him from it... I think the Baroness was his most intimate friend once!...”

“So it is said,” murmured Nadine.

Sonia Danidoff went on, as if speaking to herself:

“I am sure of it... it is precisely to remove this suspicion from my mind that Thomery was determined to have his ball to-night at all costs!... The Baroness de Vibray, so he told me, was no more than a good old friend... I cannot make her death an excuse for putting off the announcement of our marriage... that would be to give colour to scandal.” Sonia Danidoff shrugged her beautiful shoulders.

“Hand me a mirror! “

Nadine obeyed. The Princess gazed long and complacently at the marvellously lovely face reflected in the glass. “Princess,” cried Nadine, “you must leave the bath, you will be late otherwise!”

In the adjacent dressing-room, brilliantly illuminated by electric light, the Princess dressed with the aid of Nadine, proud and happy to be the sole assistant of her beloved mistress. The robing was a triumph: silk of an exquisite blue, draped with silk muslin encrusted with pointe de Venise and bands of ermine: a costly masterpiece of the dressmaker’s art. It enhanced the brilliant beauty of Sonia Danidoff, and threw Nadine into raptures.