"Think of your name," he would urge; "of the honor of your name.""And what does that matter," sneered Norbert, "provided that I live a jolly life, and shuffle out of the world rapidly?"There was one fixed star in all the dark clouds that surrounded him, which now seemed to blaze brightly, and this star was Diana de Mussidan.Do what he would, it was impossible to efface her image from his memory.Even amidst the fumes of wine and the debauched revelry of the supper table he could see the form that he had once so passionately loved standing out like a pillar of light, clear and distinct against the darkness.He had led this demoralizing existence for fully six months, when one day, as he was riding down the Avenue des Champs Elysees, he saw a lady give him a friendly bow.She was seated in a magnificent open carriage, wrapped in the richest and most costly furs.Thinking that she might be one of the many actresses with whom he was acquainted, Norbert turned his horse's head towards the carriage; but as he got nearer he saw, to his extreme amazement and almost terror, that it was Diana de Mussidan who was seated in it.He did not turn back, however; and as the carriage had just drawn up, he reined in his horse alongside of it.Diana was as much agitated as he was, and for a moment neither of them spoke, but their eyes were firmly fixed upon each other, and they sat pale and breathless, as if each had some sad presentiment which fate was preparing for them both.
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, "Istill 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."But will a woman like Diana ever forgive an offence like mine? and when she seems most friendly the danger is the more near."Unfortunately he thrust aside this idea, and refused to listen to the voice of reason.That evening he went down to his club with the intention of asking a few questions regarding the Mussidans.He heard enough to satisfy himself, and the next day he met Madame de Mussidan in the Champs Elysees, and for many days afterwards in rapid succession.Each day they exchanged a few words, and at last Diana, with much simulated hesitation, promised to alight from her carriage when next they met in the Bois, and talk to Norbert unhampered by the presence of the domestics.
Madame de Mussidan had made the appointment for three o'clock, but before two Norbert was on the spot, in a fever of expectation and doubt.
"Is it I," asked he of himself, "waiting once more for Diana, as Ihave so often waited for her at Bevron?"
Ah, how many changes had taken place since then! He was now no longer waiting for Diana de Laurebourg, but for the Countess de Mussidan, another man's wife, while he also was a married man.It was no longer the whim of a monomaniac that kept them apart, but the dictates of law, honor, and the world.
