side; but I fear I may be under a mistake, and
therefore may be abusing the permission I have received from the king.
Perhaps the lady may not be the one I am in search of; will you be kind
enough to tell me how she came here, why she came, and by whom she was
accompanied?"

"All that is useless, Monsieur le Duc," replied the superior, "you are
under no misapprehension for the lady, who arrived only this morning,
after having been expected for the last fifteen days; this lady, I say,
who was recommended by one who possesses the greatest authority over me,
is indeed the very person with whom Monsieur le Duc de Joyeuse must wish
to speak."

With these words the superior made another low courtesy to the duke and
disappeared.

Ten minutes afterward she returned, accompanied by an hospitaliere,
whose veil completely covered her face. It was Diana, who had already
assumed the dress of the order.

The duke thanked the superior, offered a chair to her companion, himself
sat down, and the superior quitted the room, closing with her own hands
the doors of the deserted and gloomy-looking apartment.

"Madame," said Joyeuse, without any preface, "you are the lady of the
Rue des Augustins; that mysterious person with whom my brother, Monsieur
le Comte du Bouchage, is so passionately and madly in love."

The hospitaliere bowed her head in reply, but did not open her lips.

This affectation appeared to Joyeuse almost like an act of rudeness; he
was already very indifferently disposed to his companion, and continued:

"You cannot have supposed, madame, that it is sufficient to be
beautiful, or to appear beautiful; to have no heart lying hidden beneath
that beauty, to inspire a wretched and despairing passion in the heart
and mind of a young man of my name, and then one day calmly to tell him,
'So much the worse for you if you possess a heart. I have none; nor do I
wish for any.'"

"That was not my reply, monsieur, and you have been incorrectly
informed," said the hospitaliere, in so noble and touching a tone of
voice that Joyeuse's anger was in a moment subdued.

"The actual words are immaterial, madame, when their sense has been
conveyed. You have rejected my brother, and have reduced him to
despair."

"Innocently, monsieur: for I have always endeavored to keep Monsieur du
Bouchage at a distance."

"That is termed the art of coquetry, madame; and the result proves the
fault."

"No one has the right to accuse me, monsi