Diana turned and rode back a little way, while Rémy walked by the litter to occupy the count. A few seconds after, Bussy was by her side.
“You see I follow you,” said he, after their first embrace.
“Oh! I shall be happy, if I know you are always so near to me.”
“But by day he will see us.”
“No; by day you can ride afar off; it is only I who will see you, Louis. From the summit of some hill, at the turn of some road, your plume waving, your handkerchief fluttering in the breeze, would speak to me in your name, and tell me that you love me.”
“Speak on, my beloved Diana; you do not know what music I find in your voice.”
“And when we travel by night, which we shall often do, for Rémy has told him that the freshness of the evening is good for his wounds, then, as this evening, from time to time, I will stay behind, and we will tell each other, with a rapid pressure of the hands, all our thoughts of each other during the day.”
“Oh! I love you! I love you!” murmured Bussy. “Oh! to see you, to press your hand, Diana.”
Suddenly they heard a voice which made them both tremble, Diana with fear, and Bussy with anger.
“Diana!” it cried, “where are you? Answer me.”