such paroxysms of rage and contempt did Henri
pass the time during the supper, which to the Duc d'Anjou was so full of
rapture and delight.

Diana sang. The prince, inflamed by wine, and by his passionate
discourse, rose from the table for the purpose of embracing Diana. Every
drop of blood seemed to curdle in Henri's veins. He put his hand to his
side to see if his sword were there, and then thrust it into his breast
in search of a dagger. Diana, with a strange smile, which most assuredly
had never, until that moment, had its counterpart on any face, stopped
the duke as he was approaching her.

"Will you allow me, monseigneur," she said, "before I rise from the
table, to share with your royal highness one of those tempting-looking
peaches."

And with these words she stretched out her hand toward a basket of gold
filagree work, in which twenty peaches were tastefully arranged, and
took one.

Then, taking from her girdle a beautiful little dagger, with a silver
blade and a handle of malachite, she divided the peach into two
portions, and offered one of them to the prince, who seized it and
carried it eagerly to his lips, as though he would thus have kissed
Diana's.

This impassioned action produced so deep an impression on himself, that
a cloud seemed to obscure his sight at the very moment he bit into the
fruit. Diana looked at him with her clear steady gaze, and her fixed
immovable smile.

Remy, leaning his back against a pillar of carved wood, also looked on
with a gloomy expression of countenance.

The prince passed one of his hands across his forehead, wiped away the
perspiration which had gathered there, and swallowed the piece that he
had bitten.

This perspiration was most probably the symptom of a sudden
indisposition; for while Diana ate the other half of the peach, the
prince let fall on his plate what remained of the portion he had taken,
and with difficulty rising from his seat, seemed to invite his beautiful
companion to accompany him into the garden in order to enjoy the cool
night air.

Diana rose, and without pronouncing a single word, took the duke's arm,
which he offered her.

Remy gazed after them, particularly after the prince, whom the air
seemed completely to revive.

As she walked along, Diana wiped the small blade of her knife on a
handkerchief embroidered with gold, and restored it to its shagreen
sheath.

In this manner they approached the clump of trees where Henri was
conce