"Am not I a Champdoce too?
Woe be to any one, father or stranger, who comes between me and the woman I love devotedly; for I do love you, Diana, and no mortal man shall take you from me." He clasped Diana to his breast, and pressed a loving kiss upon her lips.
"Aha," muttered Daumon, who had lost nothing from his post of espial, "this is worth fifty thousand francs at least to me." For a moment Diana remained clasped in her lover's embrace, and then, with a faint cry, released herself from him.

She then felt that she loved him, and his kiss and caresses sent a thrill like liquid fire through her veins.

She was half pleased and half terrified.

She feared him, but she feared herself more.
"What, Diana! Would you refuse me ?" asked he, after a moment's pause.
"Do you refuse me, when I implore you to be my wife, and to share my name with me?
Will you not be the Duchess of Champdoce ?" Diana only replied with a glance; but if her eyes spoke plainly, that look said "Yes." "Why, then," returned Norbert, "should we alarm ourselves with empty phantoms?
Do you not trust me?
My father may certainly oppose my plans, but before long I shall escape from his tyrannical sway, for I shall be of age." "Ah, Norbert," returned she sadly, "you are feeding upon vain hopes.
You must be twenty-five years of age before you can marry and give the shelter of your name to the woman whom you have chosen for your wife." This was exactly the explanation for which Daumon had been waiting.
"Good again, my young lady," cried he.

"And so this is why she came here.