Diane had noticed that the servant who had dared to undertake to deliver her billet was no longer to be seen about the house, and fully understood that desperate chance had failed her. However, she did not lose her courage, the pure and noble girl waited and prayed. She trusted in God, and in death, in case of need. On the last day of October, which Gabriel had fixed on in his own mind as the limit to his term of waiting for Martin-Guerre's return, he determined to call upon Lord Wentworth and ask, as a favor, his leave to send another messenger to Paris. About two o'clock he left the Peuquoy house, where Pierre was polishing a sword, Jean weaving one of his enormous ropes, and w here for several days past, Babette, with eyes red from weeping, had been wandering from room to room, unable to speak, and betook himself straight to the governor's mansion. Lord Wentworth was busy about something or other at the moment, and sent word to Gabriel begging him to wait five minutes, when he would be entirely at his service. The hall to which Gabriel had been shown looked out upon an interior courtyard. Gabriel drew near the window to look out into the court, and mechanically ran his fingers back and forth over the panes. Suddenly, beneath his very fingers, his attention was attracted by letters drawn upon the glass with a diamond ring. He looked at them more closely, and was able to make out with perfect distinctness these words: _Diane de Castro_. It was the signature which was missing at the end of the mysterious letter he had received the month before. A film came over Gabriel's eyes, and he had to lean against the wall to avoid falling. His presentiments had not lied, then! Diane! It was indeed Diane, his _fiancée_ or his sister, whom this dissolute Wentworth actually had in his power! It was to her, the pure and lovely creature, that he dared to speak of his passion. With an involuntary gesture Gabriel carried his hand to the hilt of his missing sword. At that moment Lord Wentworth came in. As he had done on the first occasion, Gabriel, without uttering a word, led him to the window, and pointed out to him the accusing signature. At first Lord Wentworth turned pale; then asserting that mastery over himself which he possessed in an eminent degree,-- "Well," said he, "what is it?" "Is that not the name of the mad kinswoman whom you are obliged to hold under restraint here, my Lord?" said Gabriel. "It may be so; what then?" retorted Lord Wentworth, haughtily. "If it be the case, my Lord, I know this kinswoman of yours,--a very distant relative, no doubt. I have seen her very often at the Louvre. I am her devoted slave, as every French gentleman should be of a daughter of the house of France." "And then?" said Lord Wentworth. "Then, my Lord, I demand of you an explanation of your reason for retaining and treating as you do a prisoner of her station?"