But they did not know. And it would have been quite impossible for them to guess. Thus much Diana herself was now forced to concede. Every day her mirror showed her a fair, unworn face, with the softly rounded outline of youth, and the clear eyes which betoken the unconscious joy of perfect health and vitality, and the change in her was so marked and manifest that she no longer hesitated to speak to Madame Dimitrius about it when they were alone together. At first the old lady was very nervous of the subject, and fearful lest she should in some way displease her masterful son,--but Diana reassured her, promising that he should never know the nature or extent of their confidences. It was a great relief to them both when they entered into closer mutual relations and decided to talk to each other freely--especially to Madame Dimitrius, who was anxious to be made certain that Diana was not in any physical suffering or mental distress through the exercise of Féodor’s extraordinary and, as she imagined, almost supernatural powers. She was soon satisfied on that score, for Diana could assure her, with truth, that she had never felt better or brighter. “It’s like a new life,” she said, one day, as she sat at the window of their private sitting-room in the hotel, which commanded a fine view of the snowy mountain summits. “I feel as if I had somehow been born again! All my past years seem rolled away like so much rubbish! I’ve often thought of those words: ‘Except ye be born again ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of God.’ They used to be a mystery to me, but they’re not so mysterious now! And it is just like ‘entering the Kingdom of God’ to look out on this glorious beauty of the mountains, the snow and the pine trees, and to feel alive to it all, grateful for it all, loving it all,--as I do!” Madame Dimitrius regarded her earnestly. “You do not think, then,” she suggested, “that my son is guilty of any offence against the Almighty by his dealings with these strange, unknown forces----” “Dear Madame!” interrupted Diana, quickly--“do not for a moment entertain such an idea! It belongs to those foolish times when the Church was afraid to know the truth and tortured people for telling it! What offence _can_ there be in exerting to the utmost, the intelligent faculties God has given us, and in studying to find out the wonderful advantages and benefits which may be possessed by those who cultivate reason and knowledge! I think it is a far greater offence against God, to wilfully remain in ignorance of His goodness to us all!” “Perhaps!”--and the old lady sighed--then smiled. “I’m afraid I am one of those who ‘darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge!’ But, after all, the great thing for me is that I see you well and happy--and greatest marvel of all--growing younger every day! You see that for yourself, don’t you?--and you feel it?”