He groaned out a little sigh: “And our honour, Diana? Think of the time when we shall be damned together, before you betray the child.” I walked up and down in terrible agitation when he was gone. Betray! Who had been the traitor, of us two? Not a drop of water for her, though I were to lie in Abraham’s bosom! Night came, but no Gogo. Tortured with doubts and apprehensions, I could neither eat nor rest. Had he too repented at last of his loyalty, and abandoned me in my need? They all fell from me, those I had succoured and most trusted. Sometimes, in my agony of mind, I upbraided his selfishness, cursed my own irreclaimable fondness in putting faith in man. I believed he had sold himself--whether to cupidity or an emotion, what did it matter. At length, quite exhausted by my passions, I fell asleep on my bed, dressed as I was. I slept far into the morning, and awoke to a consciousness of a presence in the next room. Was it he, returned at last? Dazed, and sick with excitement, I rose and ran to meet him. A lady only was there, cloaked and mysterious. She lifted her veil, and showed me the face I had desired. It had not, indeed, so much altered in these years as her person’s amplitude. Conceive, my dear friend, the head of a Circe on the body of a hippopotamus! Now I perceived Nature’s forethought in the gift of those immense feet. They were disproportionate no longer. She had grown colossal. The mountain had come to Mahomet. It was wonderful how, in spite of all, she could have retained the general fine contour of her features. One would have thought she could hardly have kept her countenance, seeing the changes below. I certainly found it difficult to keep mine, as I fell on my knees before her, and, catching at her hands, hung my head. She stepped back from me, shaking the room. I understood then in a moment that the old glamour was only to be recovered, if at all, with discretion. “Now, madam,” she said, “being come at your request, I must ask you for your reason, and as short as you’ll please to make it.” “My messenger”--I began. “Your messenger,” she interrupted me promptly, “is put under lock and key till we know more about him and you. He got a cut on the cheek before he was took by the guards; but that wasn’t my fault.” I buried my face in my hands. “I thank you, madam,” I said, with emotion. “He lies at least in better security than I.” “Well, I won’t answer for that,” she replied, “till I come to hear what you’re after.” I looked up. “O, madam, my benefactress!” I cried. “It is much to expect, perhaps; but do you not know me?”