"You need go no farther, Monsieur. It is quite unnecessary, as I know the way perfectly."
"I prefer to see you safe inside the château," with quiet determination.
Was this the gallant who had attracted her fancy? This was not the way he had made love in former days. Slyly her eyes revolved in his direction. His temples were grey! She had not noted this change till now. Grey; and the face, tanned even in the shaven jaws, was careworn. There was a gesture which escaped his notice. Why had she been guilty of the inexcusable madness, the inexplicable folly, of this voyage?
"Madame, this is your door."
The Chevalier stepped aside and uncovered.
"Monsieur, you have lost a valuable art." There was a fleeting glance, and she vanished within, leaving him puzzled and astonished by the unexpected softening of her voice. How long he stood there, with his gaze fixed upon the vacant doorway, he never knew. What did she mean?
"Well, Paul?" And Victor, having come up behind, laid his hand on the Chevalier's arm. "Do you know her, then?" nodding toward the door.
"Know her?" The Chevalier faced his comrade. "Would to God, lad, I did not, for she has made me the most unhappy of men."
The poet trembled in terror at the light within. "She is … ?"
"Yes, Diane; Diane, whose name I murmur in my dreams, waking or sleeping."