When he saw the prince totter, he advanced toward the threshold of the pavilion.  Diana, on her side, perceiving Francois stagger, sat herself down beside him on the bank.

The giddiness from which Francois suffered continued on this occasion longer than on the former; the prince’s head was resting on his chest.  He seemed to have lost all connection in his ideas, and almost the perception of his own existence; and yet the convulsive movement of his fingers on Diana’s hand seemed to indicate that he was instinctively pursuing his wild dream of love.  At last he slowly raised his head, and his lips being almost on a level with Diana’s face, he made an effort to touch those of his lovely guest, but as if unobservant of the movement, she rose from her seat.

“You are suffering, monseigneur,” she said; “it would be better if we were to go in.”

“Oh! yes, let us go in,” exclaimed the prince in a transport of joy.

And he arose, staggering, to his feet; then, instead of Diana leaning on his arm, it was he who leaned on Diana’s arm; and thanks to this support, walking with less difficulty, he seemed to forget fever and giddiness too, for suddenly drawing himself up, he, in an unexpected manner, pressed his lips on her neck.  She started as if, instead of a kiss, she had received the impression of a red hot iron.

“Remy!” she exclaimed, “a flambeau, a flambeau!”

Remy immediately returned to the salle-a-manger, and lighted, by the candle on the table, a flambeau which he took from a small round table, and then, hurrying to the entrance to the pavilion, and holding the torch in his hand, he cried out: 

“Here is one, madame.”

“Where is your highness going to?” inquired Diana, seizing hold of the flambeau and turning her head aside.

“Oh! we will return to my own room, and you will lead me, I venture to hope, madame?” replied the prince, in a frenzy of passion.

“Willingly, monseigneur,” replied Diana, and she raised the torch in the air, and walked before the prince.

Remy opened, at the end of the pavilion, a window through which the fresh air rushed inward, in such a manner that the flame and smoke of the flambeau, which Diana held, were carried back toward Francois’ face, which happened to be in the very current of the air.  The two lovers, as Henri considered them to be, proceeded in this manner, first crossing a gallery to the duke’s own room, and disappeared behind the fleur-de-lized hangings, which served the purpose of a portiere.

Henri had observed everything that had passed with increasing fury, and yet this fury was such that it almost deprived him of life.  It seemed as if he had no strength left except to curse the fate which had imposed so cruel a trial upon him.  He had quitted his place of concealment, and in utter despair, his arms hanging by his side, and with a haggard gaze, he was on the point of returning, with life ebbing fast, to his apartment in the chateau, when suddenly the hangings behind which he had seen Diana and the prince disappear were thrown aside, and Diana herself rushed into the supper-room, and seized hold of Remy, who, standing motionless and erect, seemed only to be waiting her return.