"If he does avoid the Louvre, Madame," said Aloyse, shaking her head, "it is not because of her whom he loves."
"I understand," thought Diane, shuddering; "it is because of him whom he hates.
"Oh!" she said aloud, "I must see him,—absolutely I must."
"Do you wish me, Madame, to tell him from you to go to the Louvre to seek you?"
"No, no,—not to the Louvre!" exclaimed Diane, in alarm. "Don't let him come to the Louvre! I will see—I will be on the lookout for another opportunity like this morning. I will come here again myself."
"But suppose that he has gone out again?" observed Aloyse. "What day will you come, what week,—can you tell at all? He will wait for you; have no fear of that."
"Alas!" said Diane, "poor king's child that I am, how can I say that at such a day or such an hour I shall be free? However, if it is possible, I will send André on before to warn him."
At this moment the page rapped a second time, fearful that he had not been heard before.
"Madame," he cried, "the streets and squares about the Louvre are beginning to be thronged."
"I am coming," replied Madame de Castro; "I am coming.