Then, too, in what Aloyse did know of her young master's later life there were many troublesome matters which she was afraid to mention. In what way could she explain his long absences, his sudden returns, his preoccupation, and his silence? At last, however, the good nurse did tell Diane all that she knew,--that is to say, all that she had seen; and Diane while listening to her doubtless experienced a delicious pleasure in hearing Gabriel spoken of, mingled though it was with deep grief at learning such sad news of him. In truth, Aloyse's revelations were not of a nature calculated to calm Madame de Castro's apprehensions, but rather to rekindle them; for this earnest and impassioned witness of the young count's anguish and suffering brought vividly before Diane's mind all the torments by which his life was harassed. Diane became more and more fully persuaded that if she wished to save those whom she loved it was high time for her to intervene. An hour is quickly gone, no matter how painful the subject of conversation. Diane and Aloyse were startled and amazed when Andre's rap was heard at the door. "What! already?" they cried in one breath. "Well, be it so!" said Diane. "I am going to stay just a quarter of an hour longer." "Be careful, Madame!" said the nurse. "You are right, nurse; I must and will go now. But one word: in all that you have told me of Gabriel you have omitted--I mean, does he never speak of me?" "Never, Madame, I must agree." "Oh, it is better so!" sighed Diane. "And he would do better still never even to think of you any more." "Do you believe, nurse, that he does think of me, then?" asked Madame de Castro, eagerly. "I am only too sure of it, Madame," said Aloyse. "Nevertheless, he carefully avoids me; he even shuns the Louvre." "If he does avoid the Louvre, Madame," said Aloyse, shaking her head, "it is not because of her whom he loves." "I understand," thought Diane, shuddering; "it is because of him whom he hates. "Oh!" she said aloud, "I must see him,--absolutely I must." "Do you wish me, Madame, to tell him from you to go to the Louvre to seek you?" "No, no,--not to the Louvre!" exclaimed Diane, in alarm. "Don't let him come to the Louvre! I will see--I will be on the lookout for another opportunity like this morning. I will come here again myself." "But suppose that he has gone out again?" observed Aloyse. "What day will you come, what week,--can you tell at all? He will wait for you; have no fear of that." "Alas!" said Diane, "poor king's child that I am, how can I say that at such a day or such an hour I shall be free? However, if it is possible, I will send André on before to warn him." At this moment the page rapped a second time, fearful that he had not been heard before. "Madame," he cried, "the streets and squares about the Louvre are beginning to be thronged." "I am coming," replied Madame de Castro; "I am coming.