nt, and uneasy. He was beginning
to reflect. He thought that his seat in the Duchess' box might cost him
dear; that perhaps, when he had put the three hundred thousand francs
in safety, it would be better to travel post, to fall at Chesnel's feet,
and tell him all. But before they left the opera-house, the Duchess,
in spite of herself, gave Victurnien an adorable glance, her eyes were
shining with the desire to go back once more to bid farewell to the nest
which she loved so much. And boy that he was, he lost a night.

The next day, at three o'clock, he was back again at the Hotel de
Maufrigneuse; he had come to take the Duchess' orders for that night's
escape. And, "Why should we go?" asked she; "I have thought it all out.
The Vicomtesse de Beauseant and the Duchesse de Langeais disappeared.
If I go too, it will be something quite commonplace. We will brave
the storm. It will be a far finer thing to do. I am sure of success."
Victurnien's eyes dazzled; he felt as if his skin were dissolving and
the blood oozing out all over him.

"What is the matter with you?" cried the fair Diane, noticing a
hesitation which a woman never forgives. Your truly adroit lover will
hasten to agree with any fancy that Woman may take into her head, and
suggest reasons for doing otherwise, while leaving her free exercise of
her right to change her mind, her intentions, and sentiments generally
as often as she pleases. Victurnien was angry for the first time, angry
with the wrath of a weak man of poetic temperament; it was a storm of
rain and lightning flashes, but no thunder followed. The angel on whose
faith he had risked more than his life, the honor of his house, was very
roughly handled.

"So," said she, "we have come to this after eighteen months of
tenderness! You are unkind, very unkind. Go away!--I do not want to see
you again. I thought that you loved me. You do not."

"_I do not love you_?" repeated he, thunderstruck by the reproach.

"No, monsieur."

"And yet----" he cried. "Ah! if you but knew what I have just done for
your sake!"

"And how have you done so much for me, monsieur? As if a man ought not
to do anything for a woman that has done so much for him."

"You are not worthy to know it!" Victurnien cried in a passion of anger.

"Oh!"

After that sublime, "Oh!" Diane bowed her head on her hand and sat,
still, cold, and implacable as angels naturally may be expected to do,
seeing that they share none of the passions