"Great Heaven!" he cried, "is not this rather a phantasy of my poor fevered brain, and is it not written that in my slumbering and in my waking moments, day and night, I should ever see those two figures who have made so deep and dark a furrow in my life? "Why," he continued, like a man aware of the need that exists of convincing himself, "why, indeed, should Remy be here in this chateau, while the Duc d'Anjou is here? What is his motive in coming here? What can the Duc d'Anjou possibly have to do with Remy? And why should he have quitted Diana--he, who is her eternal companion? No; it is not he." Then, again, a moment afterward, a conviction, thorough, profound, almost instinctive in its nature, seemed to overcome all the doubts he had entertained. "It is he! it is he!" he murmured, in utter despair, and leaning against the wall to save himself from falling. As he finished giving utterance to this overpowering, overwhelming thought, which seemed to crush all others in his mind, the sharp sound of the lock was again heard, and, although the sound was almost imperceptible, his overexcited senses detected it instantly. An indefinable shudder ran through the young man's whole frame; again he listened with eager attention. So profound a silence reigned around him on every side that he could hear the throbbings of his own heart. A few minutes passed away without anything he expected making its appearance. In default of his eyes, however, his ears told him that some one was approaching, for he heard the sound of the gravel under the advancing footsteps. Suddenly the straight black line of the hedge seemed broken; he imagined he saw upon this dark background a group still darker moving along. "It is he returning again," murmured Henri. "Is he alone, or is some one with him?" The objects advanced from the side where the silver light of the moon had illuminated a space of open ground. It was at the very moment when, advancing in the opposite direction, the man in the overcoat crossed this open space, that Henri fancied he recognized Remy. This time Henri observed two shadows very distinctly; it was impossible he could be mistaken. A death-like chill struck to his heart, and seemed to have turned it to marble. The two shadows walked quickly along, although with a firm step; the former was dressed in a woolen overcoat, and at the appearance of the second apparition, as at that of the first, the count fancied he recognized Remy. The second, who was completely enveloped in a large man's cloak, seemed to defy every attempt at recognition. And yet, beneath that cloak, Henri fancied he could detect what no human eye could have possibly seen. He could not control a deep bitter groan of despair, and no sooner had the two mysterious personages disappeared behind the hedge than the young man darted after them, and stealthily glided from one group of trees to another, in the wake of those whom he was so anxious to discover.