At last Norbert felt that he must break the silence, for the servants were beginning to gaze upon them with eyes full of curiosity.
"What, madame, you here, in Paris ?" said he with an effort.
She had drawn out a slender hand from the mass of furs in which she was enveloped, and extended it to him, as she replied in a tone which had a ring of tenderness beneath its commonplace tone,-- "Yes, we are established here, and I hope that we shall be as good friends as we were once before.

Farewell, until we meet again." As if her words had been a signal, the coachman struck his horses lightly with his whip, and the magnificent equipage rolled swiftly away.

Norbert had not accepted Diana's proffered hand, but presently he realized the whole scene, and plunging his spurs into his horse dashed furiously up the Avenue in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe.
"Ah!" said he, as a bitter pang of despair shot through his heart, "I still love her, and can never care for any one else; but I will see her again.

She has not forgotten me.

I could read it in her eyes, and detect it all in the tones of her voice." Here a momentary gleam of reason crossed his brain.