She made an exquisite picture, had she known it,--and had any one of her numerous admirers been there to see her, he might have become as ecstatic as Shakespeare’s Romeo. But for herself she had no thought, so far as her appearance was concerned,--something weird and mystical had entered into her being, and it was this new self of hers that occupied all her thoughts and swayed all her emotions. Just before they left Cannes to return to Geneva, Dimitrius asked her to an interview with himself and his mother alone. They had serious matters to discuss, he said, and important details to decide upon. She found Madame Dimitrius pale and nervous, with trembling hands and tearful eyes,--while Dimitrius himself had a hard, inflexible bearing as of one who had a disagreeable duty to perform, but who, nevertheless, was determined to see it through. “Now, Miss May,” he said, “we have come to a point of action in which it is necessary to explain a few things to you, so that there shall be no misunderstanding or confusion. My mother is now, to a very great extent, in my confidence, as her assistance and co-operation will be necessary. It is nearing the end of April, and we propose to return to the Château Fragonard immediately. We shall open the house and admit our neighbours and acquaintances to visit us as usual, but--for reasons which must be quite apparent to you--_you_ are not to be seen. It is to be supposed that you have returned to England. You follow me?” He spoke with a businesslike formality, and Diana, smiling, nodded a cheerful acquiescence,--then seeing that Madame Dimitrius looked troubled, went and sat down by her, taking her hand and holding it affectionately in her own. “You will keep to your suite of apartments,” Dimitrius continued, “and Vasho will be your sole attendant,--with the exception of my mother and myself!” Here a sudden smile lightened his rather stern expression. “I shall give myself the pleasure of taking you out every day in the fresh air,--fortunately, from our gardens one can see without being seen.” Diana, still caressing Madame Dimitrius’s fragile old hand, sat placidly silent. “You are quite agreeable to this arrangement?” went on Dimitrius--“You have nothing to suggest on your own behalf?” “Nothing whatever!” she answered. “Only--how long is it to last?” He raised his eyes and fixed them upon her with a strange expression. “On the twenty-first of June,” he said, “I make my final test upon you--the conclusion of my ‘experiment.’ After the twenty-fourth you will be free. Free to go where you please--to do as you like. Like Shakespeare’s ‘Prospero,’ I will give my ‘fine sprite’ her liberty!”