Whenever she had a desire for his company--which was often, as solitude at Monte Carlo is more depressing than Zora had realized--she sent a page boy, in the true quality of his name of _chasseur_, to hunt down the quarry and bring him back.

He would, therefore, be awakened at unearthly hours, at three o'clock in the afternoon, for instance, when, as he said, all rational beings should be asleep, it being their own unreason if they were not; or he would be tracked down at ten in the morning to some obscure little cafe in the town where he would be discovered eating ices and looking the worse for wear in his clothes of the night before.

As this meant delay in the execution of her wishes, Zora prescribed habits less irregular.

By means of bribery of chambermaids and porters, and the sacrifice of food and sleep, he contrived to find himself dressed in decent time in the mornings.

He would then patiently await her orders or call modestly for them at her residence, like the butcher or the greengrocer.
"Why does your hair stand up on end, in that queer fashion ?" she asked him one day.