“What matter, if the discovery come too late?  Besides, the duke did not recognize me.”

“No, but his follower will.  All these mysteries which have so annoyed Aurilly for eight days had not existed for the prince; they had not excited his curiosity or awakened his souvenirs, while for a week Aurilly has been seeking, imagining, suspecting.  Your face will strike on a memory fully awakened, and he will know you at once.”

At this moment they were interrupted by Aurilly, who had taken a cross-road and come suddenly upon them, in the hope of surprising some words of their conversation.  The sudden silence which followed his arrival proved to him that he was in the way, and he therefore rode behind them.

He instinctively feared something, as Remy had said, but his floating conjectures never for an instant approached the truth.  From this moment his plans were fixed, and in order to execute them the better he changed his conduct, and showed himself the most accommodating and joyous companion possible during the rest of the day.

Remy remarked this change not without anxiety.

The next day they started early, and at noon were forced to stop to rest the horses.  At two o’clock they set off again, and went on without stopping until four.  A great forest, that of La Fere, was visible in the distance; it had the somber and mysterious aspect of our northern forests, so imposing:  to southern natures, to whom, beyond all things, heat and sunshine are necessary; but it was nothing to Remy and Diana, who were accustomed to the thick woods of Anjou and Sologne.  It might have been about six o’clock in the evening when they entered the forest, and after half an hour’s journey the sun began to go down.  A high wind whirled about the leaves and carried them toward a lake, along the shore of which the travelers were journeying.  Diana rode in the middle, Aurilly on the right, and Remy on the left.  No other human being was visible under the somber arches of the trees.

From the long extent of the road, one might have thought it one of those enchanted forests, under whose shade nothing can live, had it not been for the hoarse howling of the wolves waking up at the approach of night.  All at once Diana felt that her saddle, which had been put on by Aurilly, was slipping.  She called Remy, who jumped down, and began to tighten the girths.  At this moment Aurilly approached Diana, and while she was occupied, cut the strings of silk which fastened her mask.  Before she had divined the movement, or had time to put up her hand, Aurilly seized the mask and looked full at her.  The eyes of these two people met with a look so terrible, that no one could have said which looked most pale and menacing.  Aurilly let the mask and his dagger fall, and clasping his hands, cried, “Heavens and earth!  Madame de Monsoreau!”

“It is a name which you shall repeat no more,” cried Remy, seizing him by the girdle and dragging him from his horse.  Both rolled on the ground together, and Aurilly stretched out his hand to reach his dagger.