‘And least of all,’ she exclaimed, with choking grief, ’have you compassion on me!—­on me who have lost the only one who felt for me—­on me who have loved you with every fibre of my heart—­on me who have lived on the music of your hardest, coldest word—­on me who would lay my life, my honour, in the dust for one grateful glance from you—­and whom you condemn to the anguish of—­your death!  Aye, and for what?  For the mere shadow of a little girl, who had no force to love you, or whom you know nothing—­nothing!  Oh! are you a crystal rock or are you a man?  See, I kneel to you to save yourself and me.’

There were hot tears dropping from Berenger’s eyes as he caught Diane’s hand, and held it forcibly to prevent her thus abasing herself.  Her wild words and gestures thrilled him in every pulse and wrung his heart, and it was with a stifled, agitated voice that he said—­

’God help you and me both, Diane!  To do what you ask would—­would be no saving of either.  Nay, if you will kneel,’ as she struggled with him, ‘let it be to Him who alone can bring us through;’ and releasing her hand, he dropped on his knees by her side, and covered his face with his hands, in an earnest supplication that the spirit of resistance which he almost felt slipping from him might be renewed.  The action hushed and silenced her, and as he rose he spoke no other word, but silently drew back so much of the curtain that he could see into the hall, where the dead man still lay uncoffined upon the bed where his own hands had laid him, and the low, sweet requiem of kneeling priests floated round him.  Rest, rest, and calm they breathed into one sorely tried living soul, and the perturbed heart was quelled by the sense how short the passage was to the world where captivity and longing would be ended.  He beckoned to Pere Bonami to return to Diane, and then, protected by his presence from any further demonstrations, kissed her hand and left her.

He told Philip as little as possible of this interview, but his brother remarked how much time he spent over the Psalms that evening.

The next day the brothers saw from their upper winder the arrival of Narcisse, or, as he had called himself for the last three years, the Marquis de Nid-de-Merle, with many attendant gentlemen, and a band of fifty or sixty gendarmes.  The court was filled with their horses, and rang with their calls for refreshment.  And the captives judged it wise to remain in their upper room incase they should be called for.

They were proved to have been wise in so doing; for about an hour after their arrival there was a great clanging of steel boots, and Narcisse de Ribaumont, followed by a portly, heavily-armed gentleman, wearing a scarf of office, by two of the servants, and by two gendarmes, entered the room.  It was the first time the cousins had met since le baiser d’Eutacie had been hissed into Berenger’s ear.  Narcisse looked older, sallower, and more worn than at that time; and Philip, seeing his enemy for the first time, contrasted him with the stately presence of Berenger, and felt as if a rat were strangling a noble steed.