"Very well," she said softly, and drew a deep, quivering breath, the sound of which reached us.

"Then let us go." And without--strangest thing of all--bestowing a word or look on her sister, who was weeping bitterly in a chair, she turned to the door and led the way out, a shrug of her shoulders the last thing I marked.
The poor lady heard her departing step however, and sprang up.

It dawned upon her that she was being deserted.

"Diane! Diane!" she cried distractedly--and I had to put my hand on Croisette to keep him quiet, there was such fear and pain in her tone--"I will go! I will not be left behind in this dreadful place! Do you hear?
Come back to me, Diane!" It made my blood run wildly.

But Diane did not come back.