retired into his pavilion, and we have only been able to see
him by stealth."

"And has no one seen these two travelers?" asked Henri.

"As I was proceeding to ask the prince the password for the night, for
the sentinels on duty at the chateau, I met a man who did not seem to me
to belong to his highness's household, but I was unable to observe his
face, the man having turned aside as soon as he perceived me, and having
let down the hood of his cloak over his eyes."

"The hood of his cloak, do you say?"

"Yes; the man looked like a Flemish peasant, and reminded me, I hardly
know why, of the person by whom you were accompanied when we met out
yonder."

Henri started; the observation seemed to him in some way connected with
the profound and absorbing interest with which the story inspired him;
to him, too, who had seen Diana and her companion confided to Aurilly,
the idea occurred that the two travelers who had announced to the prince
the death of the unfortunate lute-player were acquaintances of his own.

Henri looked attentively at the ensign.

"And when you fancied you recognized this man, what was the idea that
occurred to you, monsieur?" he inquired.

"I will tell you what my impression was," replied the ensign; "however,
I will not pretend to assert anything positively; the prince has not, in
all probability, abandoned all idea with regard to Flanders; he
therefore maintains spies in his employ. The man with the woolen
overcoat is a spy, who, on his way here, may possibly have learned the
accident which had happened to the musician, and may thus have been the
bearer of two pieces of intelligence at the same time."

"That is not improbable," said Henri, thoughtfully; "but what was this
man doing when you saw him?"

"He was walking beside the hedge which borders the parterre--you can see
the hedge from your windows--and was making toward the conservatories."

"You say, then, that the two travelers, for I believe you stated there
were two--"

"Others say that two persons were seen to enter, but I only saw one, the
man in the overcoat."

"In that case, then, you have reason to believe that the man in the
overcoat, as you describe him, is living in the conservatories."

"It is not unlikely."

"And have these conservatories a means of exit?"

"Yes, count, toward the town."

Henri remained silent for some time; his heart was throbbing most
violently, for these details, which were apparently matters of