t you remarked on my
face--the joy that fills me even now, is the same you would see in me if
the angel of death were to come and say to me, 'Rise, Diana, and follow
me.'"

"Diana! Diana! now I know your name; Diana, cherished name!" murmured
the young man.

"Oh, silence!" cried she, "forget this name which escaped me; no living
person has the right to pierce my heart by pronouncing it."

"Oh! madame, do not tell me you are going to die."

"I do not say that," replied she in her grave voice; "I say that I am
about to quit this world of tears--of hatreds--of bad passions--of vile
interests and desires. I say that I have nothing left to do among the
creatures whom God created my fellow mortals; I have no more tears, no
more blood in my heart; no more thoughts--they are dead. I am a
worthless offering, for in renouncing the world I sacrifice nothing,
neither desires nor hopes; but such as I am I offer myself to my God,
and he will accept me--he who has made me suffer so much, and yet kept
me from sinking under it."

Remy, who had heard this, rose slowly, and said, "You abandon me?"

"For God," said Diana, raising her thin white hand to heaven.

"It is true," said Remy, sadly; and seizing her hand he pressed it to
his breast.

"Oh! what am I by these two hearts?" said Henri.

"You are," replied Diana, "the only human creature, except Remy, on whom
I have looked twice for years."

Henri knelt. "Thanks, madame," said he, "I bow to my destiny. You belong
to God; I cannot be jealous."

As he rose, they heard the sound of trumpets on the plain, from which
the water was rapidly disappearing. The gendarmes seized their arms and
were on horseback at once.

Henri listened. "Gentlemen," cried he, "those are the admiral's
trumpets; I know them. Oh, God! may they announce my brother!"

"You see that you still wish something, and still love something; why,
then, should you choose despair, like those who desire nothing--like
those who love no one?"

"A horse!" cried Henri; "who will lend me a horse?"

"But the water is still all around us," said the ensign.

"But you see that the plain is practicable; they must be advancing,
since we hear their trumpets."

"Mount to the top of the bank, M. le Comte, the sky is clear, perhaps
you will see."

Henri climbed up; the trumpets continued to sound at intervals, but were
seemingly stationary.

CHAPTER LXXI.

THE TWO BROTHERS.

A quarter of an hour after, Henri