ere Mademoiselle Dalahaide and her aunt had gone). The
Italian was not unlearned in such lore of the far-away French prison-land
as could be obtained, and he had read that, though strangers were allowed
to land at Noumea, and a few had been enabled through influence to
penetrate inside the prison walls, all personal intercourse with the
convicts was strictly interdicted. Since the one almost miraculous
escape, over thirty years ago, of Henri Rochefort and Humbert, watch and
ward had been more strictly kept than ever; besides, they had escaped
from Ducos, on the Isle of Pines, which in those days had been sacred to
political prisoners, and discipline there had been, even then, lax
compared to that of the Ile Nou, the very heart of prison-land, where
Maxime Dalahaide was dragging out the weary years of his lost life.

Yet what if Virginia should have formed the extraordinary resolve of
going to Noumea? What was it to him--Loria--since she could accomplish
nothing there? Suppose, even, that among other miserable convicts she saw
Maxime--pallid, thin, sullen and hopeless, his good looks and his
brilliant audacity crushed and gone--would not the romantic feeling she
had conceived for him be instantly turned into horror and disgust? When
such a chill had withered a girl's fancy for a man, there could be no
future blossoming, and her heart might be caught in the rebound. Once,
Loria had thought that Virginia had been on the point of caring for him.
Perhaps when they met she would turn to him again, remorseful for the
pain she had caused, grateful for his unwavering loyalty; and, telling
himself these things, he was almost persuaded that it would do him more
good than harm if Virginia did go to Noumea. But he was never wholly
persuaded. A strange fear knocked at his heart, a fear that had no name.
He never quite saw its face. Like a haunting ghost, it was always behind
him, and he could hear the swish of its garments, the stealthy sound of
its footfalls; but when he turned upon it the thing was gone, leaving
only the impression of a black shadow with a veiled face inexpressibly
awful.

Loria could not sleep by night, and by day he was restless. He began to
dread an illness, and was constantly troubled with headache, which gave
him an excuse for believing that the vague, nervous apprehension he
suffered was largely the result of physical causes.

What else, indeed, could it be? He had absolutely nothing to fear. Of
this he was