n walking in his sleep, he left the
Counsellor's office.

Hardly had the young man's footsteps died away, than Daumon entered the
room. He had not lost a word or action in the foregoing scene, and he
was terribly agitated; and he could scarcely believe his eyes when
he saw Diana, whom he had supposed to be lying half-sensible in the
arm-chair, standing at the window, gazing after Norbert, as he walked
along the road leading from the Counsellor's cottage.

"Ah! what a woman!" muttered he. "Gracious powers, what a wonderful
woman!"

When Diana had lost sight of her lover, she turned round to Daumon. Her
face was pale, and her eyelids swollen, but her eyes flashed with the
conviction of success.

"To-morrow, Counsellor," said she, "to-morrow I shall be the Duchess de
Champdoce."

Daumon was so overwhelmed that, accustomed as he was to startling events
and underhand trickery, he could find no words to express his feelings.

"That is to say," added Diana thoughtfully, "if all goes as it should
to-night."

Daumon felt a cold shiver creep over him, but summoning up all his
self-possession, he said, "I do not understand you. What is this that
you hope will be accomplished to-night?"

She turned so contemptuous and sarcastic a look on him, that the words
died away in his mouth, and he at once saw his mistake in thinking that
he could sport with the girl's feelings as a cat plays with a mouse; for
it was she who was playing with him, and she, a simple girl, had made
this wily man of the world her dupe.

"Success is, of course, a certainty," answered she coldly; "but Norbert
is impetuous, and impetuous people are often awkward. But I must return
home at once. Ah, me!" she added, as her self-control gave way for a
moment, "will this cruel night never pass away, and give way to the
gentle light of dawn? Farewell, Counsellor. When we meet again, all
matters will be settled, one way or other."

The Parthian dart which Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had cast behind
her went true to the mark; the allusion to Norbert's impetuosity and
awkwardness rendered the Counsellor very unhappy. He sat down in his
arm-chair, and, resting his head on his hands, and his elbows on his
desk, he strove to review the position thoroughly. Perhaps by now
all might be over. Where was Norbert, and what was he doing? he asked
himself.

At the time that Daumon was reflecting, Norbert was on the road leading
to Champdoce. He had entirely lost his head