crowd,
coughed slightly, used his handkerchief, and finally took from his
breviary a sheet of paper.

"I have," said he, "to publish the banns of marriage between----" here
he made a little pause, and all the congregation were on the tenterhooks
of expectation; "between," he continued, "Monsieur Louis Norbert,
Marquis de Champdoce, a minor, and only legitimate son of Guillaume
Caesar, Duke de Champdoce, and of his wife Isabella de Barnaville, now
deceased, but who both formerly resided in this parish, and Desiree
Anne Marie Palouzet, minor, and legitimate daughter of Rene Augustus
Palouzet, Count de Puymandour, and of Zoe Staplet, his wife, but now
deceased, also residents of this parish."

This was the thunderbolt launched from the pulpit, which seemed to crush
Diana into the earth, and her heart almost ceased to beat.

"Let any one," continued the priest, "who knows of any impediment to
this marriage, take warning that he or she must acquaint us with it,
under the penalty of excommunication. At the same time let him be warned
under the same penalty to bring forward nothing in malice or without
some foundation."

An impediment! What irony lay veiled beneath that word. Mademoiselle
de Laurebourg knew of more than one. A wild desire filled her heart to
start from her seat and cry out,--

"It is impossible for this marriage to take place, for that Norbert was
her affianced husband in the sight of Heaven, and that he was bound to
her by the strongest of all links, that of crime."

But by a gigantic effort she controlled herself, and remained
motionless, pallid as a spectre, but with a forced smile on her lips,
and with unparalleled audacity made a little sign to one of her female
friends, which plainly meant, "This is, indeed, something unexpected."
All her mind was concentrated to preserve a calm and unmoved aspect. The
singing of the choir seemed to die away, the strong odor of the incense
almost overpowered her, and she felt that unless the service soon came
to an end, she must fall insensible from her chair. At last the priest
turned again to the congregation and droned out the _Ita missa est_,
and all was over. Diana grasped the arm of her maid and forced her away,
without saying a word. As she reached home, a servant ran up to her with
a face upon which agitation was strongly painted.

"Ah, mademoiselle," gasped he, "such a frightful calamity. Your father
and mother are expecting you; it is really too terrib