The road which they were following, and which was bounded by a row of elms, terminated in a high hawthorn hedge, which separated from the rest of the park the pavilion of the Duc d’Anjou, and enveloped it as with a curtain of verdure, in the midst of which, as has been already observed, it entirely disappeared in a remote corner of the grounds of the chateau.  There were several beautiful sheets of water, dark underwood, through which winding paths had been cut, and venerable trees, over the summits of which the moon was shedding its streams of silver light, while underneath the gloom was thick, dark, and impenetrable.

As he approached this hedge, Henri felt that his heart was on the point of failing him.  In fact, to transgress so boldly the prince’s orders, and to abandon himself to a course of conduct as indiscreet as it was rash, was the act, not of a loyal and honorable man, but of a mean and cowardly spy, or of a jealous man driven to extremities.  But as, while opening the gate, which separated the greater from the smaller park, the man he followed moved in such a way that his features were revealed, and as he perceived that these features were indeed those of Remy, the count’s scruples vanished, and he resolutely advanced at all hazards.  Henri found the gate again closed; he leaped over the railings, and then continued his pursuit of the prince’s two strange visitors, who still seemed to be hurrying onward.  Another cause of terror was soon added; for the duke, on hearing the footsteps of Remy and his companion upon the gravel walk, made his appearance from the pavilion.  Henri threw himself behind the largest of the trees, and waited.

He could not see anything, except that he observed that Remy made a very low salutation, that Remy’s companion courtesied like a woman, instead of bowing like a man, and that the duke, seemingly transported with delight, offered his arm to the latter, in the same way as he would have done to a woman.  Then all three advanced toward the pavilion, disappeared under the vestibule, and the door closed behind them.

“This must end,” said Henri, “and I must seek a more convenient place, where I can see everything that may pass without being seen.”

He decided in favor of a clump of trees situated between the pavilion and the wall, from the center of which the waters of a fountain gushed forth, thus forming an impenetrable place of concealment; for it was not likely that in the night-time, with the freshness and humidity which would naturally be found near this fountain, the prince would seek the vicinity of the water and the thickets.  Hidden behind the statue with which the fountain was ornamented, and standing at his full height behind the pedestal, Henri was enabled to see what was taking place in the pavilion, the principal window of which was quite open before him.

As no one could, or rather, as no one would, venture to penetrate so far, no precautions had been taken.