hed by giving herself up to the bitterest enemy that she
had in the world. By degrees she had no secrets from her new friend, and
one day, after a long and confidential conversation, she acknowledged to
Diana the whole secret of the early love of her girlish days, the memory
of which had never faded from the inmost recesses of her heart, and was
rash enough to mention George de Croisenois by name. Madame de Mussidan
was overjoyed at what she considered so signal a victory.

"Now I have her," thought she, "and vengeance is within my grasp."

Marie and Diana were now like two sisters, and were almost constantly
together; but this intimacy had not given to Norbert the facile means
of meeting Diana which he had so ardently hoped for. Though Madame de
Mussidan visited his house nearly every day, he absolutely saw less of
her than he had done before, and sometimes weeks elapsed without his
catching a glimpse of her face. She played her game with such consummate
skill, that Marie was always placed as a barrier between Norbert and
herself, as in the farce, when the lover wishes to embrace his mistress,
he finds the wrinkled visage of the duenna offered to his lips.
Sometimes he grew angry, but Diana always had some excellent reason
with which to close his mouth. Sometimes she held up his pretensions
to ridicule, and at others assumed a haughty air, which always quelled
incipient rebellion upon his part.

"What did you expect of me?" she would say, "and of what base act did
you do me the honor to consider me capable?"

He was treated exactly like a child, or more cruel still, like a person
deficient in intellect, and this he was thoroughly aware of. He could
not meet Madame de Mussidan as he had formerly done, for now in the
Bois, at Longchamps, or at any place of public amusement she was
invariably surrounded by a band of fashionable admirers, among whom
George de Croisenois was always to be found. Norbert disliked all these
men, but he had a special antipathy to George de Croisenois, whom he
regarded as a supercilious fool; but in this opinion he was entirely
wrong, for the Marquis de Croisenois was looked upon as one of the most
talented and witty men in Parisian society, and in this case the opinion
of the world was a well-founded one. Many men envied him, but he had
no enemies, and his honest and straightforward conduct was beyond all
doubt. He had the noble instincts of a knight of the days of chivalry.

"Pray," asked