love. At last he slowly raised his head, and
his lips being almost on a level with Diana's face, he made an effort to
touch those of his lovely guest, but as if unobservant of the movement,
she rose from her seat.

"You are suffering, monseigneur," she said; "it would be better if we
were to go in."

"Oh! yes, let us go in," exclaimed the prince in a transport of joy.

And he arose, staggering, to his feet; then, instead of Diana leaning on
his arm, it was he who leaned on Diana's arm; and thanks to this
support, walking with less difficulty, he seemed to forget fever and
giddiness too, for suddenly drawing himself up, he, in an unexpected
manner, pressed his lips on her neck. She started as if, instead of a
kiss, she had received the impression of a red hot iron.

"Remy!" she exclaimed, "a flambeau, a flambeau!"

Remy immediately returned to the salle-a-manger, and lighted, by the
candle on the table, a flambeau which he took from a small round table,
and then, hurrying to the entrance to the pavilion, and holding the
torch in his hand, he cried out:

"Here is one, madame."

"Where is your highness going to?" inquired Diana, seizing hold of the
flambeau and turning her head aside.

"Oh! we will return to my own room, and you will lead me, I venture to
hope, madame?" replied the prince, in a frenzy of passion.

"Willingly, monseigneur," replied Diana, and she raised the torch in the
air, and walked before the prince.

Remy opened, at the end of the pavilion, a window through which the
fresh air rushed inward, in such a manner that the flame and smoke of
the flambeau, which Diana held, were carried back toward Francois' face,
which happened to be in the very current of the air. The two lovers, as
Henri considered them to be, proceeded in this manner, first crossing a
gallery to the duke's own room, and disappeared behind the
fleur-de-lized hangings, which served the purpose of a portiere.

Henri had observed everything that had passed with increasing fury, and
yet this fury was such that it almost deprived him of life. It seemed as
if he had no strength left except to curse the fate which had imposed so
cruel a trial upon him. He had quitted his place of concealment, and in
utter despair, his arms hanging by his side, and with a haggard gaze, he
was on the point of returning, with life ebbing fast, to his apartment
in the chateau, when suddenly the hangings behind which he had seen
Diana and the prince disa