“As you wish.  Besides, I have told you what my master told me to say.”

“To me?”

“To you and the young lady.”

“Your master, M. le Comte du Bouchage, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, monsieur.”

When he had shut the door, all the appearances of age vanished, except the bald head, and Remy mounted the staircase with an agility more like a young man of twenty-five, than the old man he had appeared to be a few minutes before.

“Madame! madame!” cried he, in an agitated voice.

“Well, what is it, Remy; is not the duke gone?”

“Yes, madame, but there is a worse demon here; a demon on whom, during six years, I have daily called down Heaven’s vengeance, as you have on his master.”

“Aurilly?”

“Yes, Aurilly; the wretch is below, forgotten by his infernal accomplice.”

“Forgotten, do you say, Remy?  Oh! you are wrong; you, who know the duke, know that he never leaves to chance any evil deed, if he can do it himself.  No, no, Remy; Aurilly is not forgotten, but left here for some bad design, believe me!”

“Oh! about him, madame, I can believe anything.”

“Does he know me?”

“I do not think so.”

“And did he recognize you?”

“Oh! madame,” said Remy, with a sad smile, “no one recognizes me.”

“Perhaps he guesses who I am?”

“No, for he asked to see you.”

“I am sure he must have suspicions.”

“In that case nothing is more easy, and I thank God for pointing out our path so plainly.  The village is deserted, the wretch is alone.  I saw a poniard in his belt, but I have a knife in mine.”

“One moment, Remy; I do not ask the life of that wretch of you, but before you kill him, let us find out what he wants of us; perhaps we may make his evil intentions useful.  How did he represent himself to you, Remy?”

“As the steward of M. du Bouchage, madame.”

“You see he lies; therefore, he has some reason for lying.  Let us find out his intentions, and conceal our own.”

“I will act as you wish, madame.”

“What does he ask now?”

“To accompany us.”

“In what character?”

“As the count’s steward.”

“Tell him I accept.”

“Oh! madame.”

“Add that I am thinking of going to England, where I have relations, but have not quite decided; lie like him, Remy; to conquer we must fight with equal arms.”

“But he will see you?”

“I will wear my mask.  Besides, I suspect he knows me.”

“Then, if he knows you, there must be a snare.”

“Let us pretend to fall into it.”

“But—­”

“What do you fear, we can but die?  Are you not ready to die for the accomplishment of our vow?”

“Yes, but not to die without vengeance.”

“Remy,” cried Diana, her eyes sparkling with wild excitement, “be easy, we will be revenged; you on the servant, and I on the master.”