When they had reached the spot, the bearers placed the coffin in one of the open tombs, and put the cover of black marble in place; then the poor fellows, who had been taught by suffering to look with holy awe upon death, removed their caps, and falling on their knees, offered a short prayer for the soul of the unknown dead.
When they had risen, the nurse led them back in silence, and on the threshold slipped into the hand of one of them the sum Gabriel had promised; whereupon they vanished like dumb spectres, without having uttered a single word.
Aloyse returned to the tomb, and passed the rest of the night on her knees, praying and weeping.
The next morning André found her pale but calm; she said to him simply,—
"My child, we must never lose hope; but it is useless for us to expect Monsieur le Vicomte d'Exmès any longer. So you must set about executing the commissions with which he charged you in case he did not return at once."
"Very well," said the page, sorrowfully. "I will start at once then to go and meet Madame de Castro."
"In the name of your absent master, I thank you for your zeal, André," said Aloyse.
The boy did as he promised, and set out the same day. He inquired for the noble traveller he was seeking at every halting-place on the road, but did not meet her until he reached Amiens.
Diane de Castro had but just arrived at that city, with the escort with which the Duc de Guise had furnished her as the daughter of Henri II. She had stopped to rest a few hours at the house of Monsieur de Thuré, the governor of the place.
As soon as Diane espied the page, she changed color; but controlling herself with an effort, she made a sign to him to follow her into the next room. When they were alone, she asked him,—