"Yes," rejoined the duke; "it is understood that all that has passed between us is as if it had never been said." "Now I will take my leave," said Gabriel, rising. "What, already!" exclaimed the duke. "Yes, Monseigneur, I have learned what I desired to know. I will remember your words; they are safely buried in my heart, yet I will remember them. Excuse me, but it was essential for me to ascertain whether the royal ambition of the Duc de Guise was still slumbering. Adieu, Monseigneur." "_Au revoir_, my friend." Gabriel left the Tournelles even more gloomy and anxious than when he had entered there. "So," said he to himself, "both the human auxiliaries upon whom I thought I could rely have failed me. I have none but God to look to now!" CHAPTER VII A PERILOUS STEP Diane de Castro in her apartments in the royal palace was meanwhile leading a miserable existence of grief and mortal terror. Yet every tie was not broken that bound her to him who had loved her so dearly. Almost every week André the page was sent to the Rue des Jardins St. Paul, to make inquiries of Aloyse concerning Gabriel's welfare. The information which he brought back to Diane was far from reassuring. The young Comte de Montgommery was always the same,--moody and anxious and gloomy. The good nurse could not speak of him that her eyes did not fill with tears, and her cheeks lose their color. Diane hesitated fora long while. Finally, one morning during this same month of June she took a decided step in order to put an end to her dread. She wrapped herself in a very modest cloak, hid her face under a veil, and left the Louvre at an hour when people were scarcely stirring there, accompanied by André alone, with the purpose of visiting Gabriel at his house. Since he avoided her and made no sign, she would go to him. Surely a sister might visit her brother! Indeed, was it not her duty to warn him or console him? Unfortunately, all the courage which it had cost Diane to resolve upon that step was to be in vain. Gabriel also selected the lonely hours of the early morning for his wanderings, which he had by no means abandoned; and when Diane knocked with trembling hand at the door of his house, he had already been gone more than half an hour. Should she await his return? It was always uncertain, and a too long absence from the Louvre might expose Diane to slander. But no matter; she determined to wait at least until the expiration of the time she had set aside for the visit. She inquired for Aloyse, for she also desired to see her, and question her with her own lips. André escorted his mistress into an unoccupied room, and went to inform the nurse. Not for many years, not since the happy days of Montgommery and Vimoutiers, had Aloyse and Diane met,--the woman of the people and the daughter of the king.