that may pass without being seen."

He decided in favor of a clump of trees situated between the pavilion
and the wall, from the center of which the waters of a fountain gushed
forth, thus forming an impenetrable place of concealment; for it was not
likely that in the night-time, with the freshness and humidity which
would naturally be found near this fountain, the prince would seek the
vicinity of the water and the thickets. Hidden behind the statue with
which the fountain was ornamented, and standing at his full height
behind the pedestal, Henri was enabled to see what was taking place in
the pavilion, the principal window of which was quite open before him.

As no one could, or rather, as no one would, venture to penetrate so
far, no precautions had been taken.

A table was laid, sumptuously served with the richest viands, and with
rare wines in bottles of costly Venetian glass.

Two seats only at this table seemed to be awaiting two guests.

The duke approached one of the chairs; then, leaving the arm of Remy's
companion, and pointing to the other seat, he seemed to request that the
cloak might be thrown aside, as, although it might be very serviceable
for an evening stroll, it became very inconvenient when the object of
the stroll was attained, and when that object was a supper.

Thereupon the individual to whom the invitation had been addressed threw
the cloak upon a chair, and the dazzling blaze of the flambeaux lighted
up, without a shadow on their loveliness, the pale and
majestically-beautiful features of a woman whom the terrified eyes of
Henri immediately recognized. It was the lady of the mysterious house in
the Rue des Augustins, the wanderer in Flanders; in one word, it was
that Diana whose gaze was as mortal as the thrust of a dagger. On this
occasion she wore the apparel of her own sex, and was richly dressed in
brocaded silk; diamonds blazed on her neck, in her hair, and on her
wrists, and thereby made the extreme pallor of her face more remarkable
than ever, and in the light which shone from her eyes, it almost seemed
as if the duke had, by the employment of some magical means, evoked the
ghost of this woman, rather than the woman herself. Had it not been for
the support afforded by the statue round which he had thrown his arms,
colder even than the marble itself, Henri would have fallen backward
headlong into the basin of the fountain.

The duke seemed intoxicated with delight; he fixed his pas