"Oh, Diane," he replied, "how I have suffered, and what a weary time it has been since I saw you last!"
"And I too have suffered, and have found the waiting weary," she cried.
They then began—at too great length to be dramatic, it must be confessed—to tell what each had endured and felt during their unhappy separation.
Calais, the Duc de Guise, vanquished and victors,—all were forgotten. All the strife and all the deadly passion which was rife about the two lovers did not reach them. Lost in their world of love and ecstasy, they no longer saw or heard the sights or sounds of the sad world around them.
When one has undergone so much grief and terror, the heart is enfeebled and softened to a certain extent by suffering, and though brave to overcome disaster, can no longer resist happiness. In this balmy atmosphere of chaste emotion, Diane and Gabriel gave themselves up without restraint to the sweet influences of peace and joy, to which they had so long been strangers.
To the scene of insane passion which we have described succeeded another similar, and yet widely different at the same time.
"How good it seems to be with you, my friend," said Diane. "Instead of the presence of that impious wretch whom I hated so, and whose love made me shudder, what ecstasy to have you near me, so reassuring, and so precious!"
"And I," rejoined Gabriel, "since our childhood, when we were happy without knowing it, do not remember, Diane, that I have ever known in my poor lonely, troubled life a single moment to be compared to this."
For a while they were silent, gazing in rapt enjoyment at each other.
Diane resumed:—