At this time, the door communicating with the next room gently opened. A fair form--a form fairer and younger than that of Valerie de Ventadour--entered the apartment; the silence had deceived her--she believed that Maltravers was alone. She had entered with her heart upon her lips; love, sanguine, hopeful love, in every vein, in every thought--she had entered dreaming that across that threshold life would dawn upon her afresh--that all would be once more as it had been, when the common air was rapture. Thus she entered; and now she stood spell-bound, terror-stricken, pale as death--life turned to stone--youth--hope--bliss were for ever over to her! Ernest kneeling to another was all she saw! For this had she been faithful and true amidst storm and desolation; for this had she hoped--dreamed--lived. They did not note her; she was unseen--unheard. And Ernest, who would have gone barefoot to the end of the earth to find her, was in the very room with her, and knew it not! "Call me again /beloved/!" said Valerie, very softly. "Beloved Valerie, hear me." These words were enough for the listener; she turned noiselessly away: humble as that heart was, it was proud. The door closed on her--she had obtained the wish of her whole being--Heaven had heard her prayer--she had once more seen the lover of her youth; and thenceforth all was night and darkness to her. What matter what became of her? One moment, what an effect it produces upon years!--ONE MOMENT!--virtue, crime, glory, shame, woe, rapture, rest upon moments! Death itself is but a moment, yet Eternity is its successor! "Hear me!" continued Ernest, unconscious of what had passed--" hear me; let us be what human nature and worldly forms seldom allow those of opposite sexes to be--friends to each other, and to virtue also--friends through time and absence--friends through all the vicissitudes of life--friends on whose affection shame and remorse never cast a shade--friends who are to meet hereafter! Oh! there is no attachment so true, no tie so holy, as that which is founded on the old chivalry of loyalty and honour; and which is what love would be, if the heart and the soul were unadulterated by clay." There was in Ernest's countenance an expression so noble, in his voice a tone so thrilling, that Valerie was brought back at once to the nature which a momentary weakness had subdued. She looked at him with an admiring and grateful gaze, and then said, in a calm but low voice, "Ernest, I understand you; yes, your friendship is dearer to me than love."