dignity, "say one
thing more. You will go to see him about five o'clock, for I know that
he will dine at home today at that time. Very good. By way of answer he
must come to see me. If, three hours afterwards, by eight o'clock, he
does not leave his house, all will be over. The Duchesse de Langeais
will have vanished from the world. I shall not be dead, dear friend, no,
but no human power will ever find me again on this earth. Come and dine
with me; I shall at least have one friend with me in the last agony.
Yes, dear cousin, tonight will decide my fate; and whatever happens to
me, I pass through an ordeal by fire. There! not a word. I will hear
nothing of the nature of comment or advice----Let us chat and laugh
together," she added, holding out a hand, which he kissed. "We will be
like two grey-headed philosophers who have learned how to enjoy life to
the last moment. I will look my best; I will be very enchanting for
you. You perhaps will be the last man to set eyes on the Duchesse de
Langeais."

The Vicomte bowed, took the letter, and went without a word. At five
o'clock he returned. His cousin had studied to please him, and she
looked lovely indeed. The room was gay with flowers as if for a
festivity; the dinner was exquisite. For the grey-headed Vidame the
Duchess displayed all the brilliancy of her wit; she was more charming
than she had ever been before. At first the Vidame tried to look on
all these preparations as a young woman's jest; but now and again the
attempted illusion faded, the spell of his fair cousin's charm was
broken. He detected a shudder caused by some kind of sudden dread, and
once she seemed to listen during a pause.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Hush!" she said.

At seven o'clock the Duchess left him for a few minutes. When she came
back again she was dressed as her maid might have dressed for a journey.
She asked her guest to be her escort, took his arm, sprang into a
hackney coach, and by a quarter to eight they stood outside M. de
Montriveau's door.

Armand meantime had been reading the following letter:--

"MY FRIEND,--I went to your rooms for a few minutes without your
knowledge; I found my letters there, and took them away. This cannot
be indifference, Armand, between us; and hatred would show itself quite
differently. If you love me, make an end of this cruel play, or you will
kill me, and afterwards, learning how much you were loved, you might be
in despair. If I have n