his appearance again."

"Yes, he is no doubt going to the conservatories to join his companion?
Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"The sound of a key turning in the lock."

"It is singular," said Du Bouchage; "there is nothing unusual in all
this, and yet--"

"And yet you are trembling, you were going to say?"

"Yes," said the count; "but what is that?"

The sound of a bell was heard.

"It is the signal for the supper of the prince's household; are you
going to join us at supper, count?"

"No, I thank you, I do not require anything; and, if I should feel
hungry, I will call for what I may need."

"Do not wait for that, monsieur; but come and amuse yourself in our
society."

"Nay, nay, it is impossible."

"Why so?"

"His royal highness almost directed me to have what I should need served
to me in my own apartment; but do not let me delay you."

"Thank you, count, good-evening; do not lose sight of our phantom."

"Oh! rely upon me for that; unless," added Henri, who feared he might
have said too much, "unless, indeed, I should be overtaken by sleep,
which seems more than probable, and a far more healthy occupation than
that of watching shadows and spies."

"Certainly," said the ensign, laughingly, as he took leave of Henri du
Bouchage.

Hardly had he quitted the library than Henri darted into the garden.

"Oh!" he murmured, "it is Remy! it is Remy! I should know him again in
the darkness of hell itself."

And the young man, as he felt his knees tremble beneath him, buried his
burning forehead in his cold damp hands.

"Great Heaven!" he cried, "is not this rather a phantasy of my poor
fevered brain, and is it not written that in my slumbering and in my
waking moments, day and night, I should ever see those two figures who
have made so deep and dark a furrow in my life?

"Why," he continued, like a man aware of the need that exists of
convincing himself, "why, indeed, should Remy be here in this chateau,
while the Duc d'Anjou is here? What is his motive in coming here? What
can the Duc d'Anjou possibly have to do with Remy? And why should he
have quitted Diana--he, who is her eternal companion? No; it is not he."

Then, again, a moment afterward, a conviction, thorough, profound,
almost instinctive in its nature, seemed to overcome all the doubts he
had entertained.

"It is he! it is he!" he murmured, in utter despair, and leaning against
the wall to save himself from falling. As he finished givin