Diana de Laurebourg was a strange
compound; under an appearance of the most artless
simplicity she concealed an iron will, and had hidden
from every one of her family, and even from her most
intimate friends, her firm resolve to become the Duchess
of Champdoce. All her rambles in the neighborhood
had turned out of no avail; and as the weather was
now very uncertain, it seemed as if her long strolls
in the country roads and fields would soon come to
an end. “The day must eventually come,”
murmured she, “when this invisible prince must
make his appearance.” And at last the long-expected
day arrived.
It was in the middle of the month
of November, and the weather was exceedingly soft
and balmy for the time of year. The sky was blue,
the few remaining leaves rustled on the trees, and
an occasional bird whistled in the hedgerows.
Diana de Laurebourg was walking slowly along the path
leading to Mussidan, when all at once she heard a rustling
of branches. She turned round sharply, and all
the blood in her body seemed to rush suddenly to her
heart, for through an opening in the hedge she caught
sight of the man who for the past two months had occupied
all her waking thoughts. Norbert was waiting
for something with all the eagerness of a sportsman,
his finger on the trigger of his gun.
Here was the opportunity for which
she had waited so long, and with such ill-concealed
impatience; and yet she could derive no advantage from
it, for what would happen? Simply this:
Norbert would bow to her, and she would reply with
a slight inclination of her head, and perhaps two
months might pass away before she met him again.
Just as she was about to take some bold and decisive
step she saw Norbert raise his gun and point it in
her direction. She endeavored to call out to him,
but her voice failed her, and in another moment the
report rang out, and she felt a sharp pang, like the
touch of a red-hot iron upon her ankle. With
a wild shriek she threw up her arms and fell upon the
pathway. She did not lose her senses, for she
heard a cry in response to her own, and the crashing
of something forcing its way through the hedge.
Then she felt a hot breath upon her face, and then
something cold and wet touched her cheek. She
opened her eyes languidly, and saw Bruno licking her
face and hands.
At the same moment Norbert dashed
through the hedge and stood before her. At once
she realized the advantage of her position and closed
her eyes once more. Norbert, as he hung over
the seemingly unconscious form of this fair young
creature, felt that his senses were deserting him,
for he greatly feared that he had killed Mademoiselle
de Laurebourg. His first impulse was to fly precipitately,
and his second to give what aid he could to his victim.
He knelt down by her, and, to his infinite relief,
found that life was not extinct. He raised her
beautiful head.
“Speak to me, mademoiselle, I entreat you,”
cried he.
All this time Diana was returning
thanks to kind Providence for the fulfillment of her
wishes. After a time she made a slight move, and
Norbert uttered an exclamation of joy. Then, opening
her beautiful eyes, she gazed upon the young man with
the air of a person just awaking from a dream.
“It is I,” faltered the
distracted young man. “Norbert de Champdoce.
But forgive me, and tell me if you are in pain?”
Pity came over the wounded girl.
She gently drew herself away from the arm that encircled
her, and said softly, —
“It is I who ought to apologize
for my foolish weakness; for I am really more frightened
than hurt.”
Norbert felt that heaven had opened
before his very eyes. “Let me go for help,”
exclaimed he.
“No, no; it was a mere scratch.”
And, raising her skirt, she displayed a foot that
might have turned a steadier head than Norbert’s.
“See,” said she, “it is there that
I am in pain.”
And she pointed to a spot of blood
upon the delicate white stocking. At the sight
of this the young man’s terror increased, and
he started to his feet.
“Let me run to the Chateau,”
said he, “and in less than an hour — ”
“Do nothing of the kind,”
interrupted the girl; “it is a mere nothing.
Look, I can move my foot with ease.”
“But let me entreat you — ”
“Hush! we shall soon see what
it is that has happened.” And she inspected
what she laughingly termed his terrible wound.
It was, as she had supposed, a mere
nothing. One pellet had grazed the skin, another
had lodged in the flesh, but it was quite on the surface.
“A surgeon must see to this,” said Norbert.
“No, no.” And with
the point of a penknife she pulled out the little
leaden shot. The young man remained still, holding
his breath, as a child does when he is putting the
topmost story on a house of cards. He had never
heard so soft a voice, never gazed on so perfectly
lovely a face. In the meantime Diana had torn
up her handkerchief and bandaged the wound. “Now
that is over,” exclaimed she, with a light laugh,
as she extended her slender fingers to Norbert, so
that he might assist her to rise.
As soon as she was on her feet, she
took a few steps with the prettiest limp imaginable.
“Are you in pain?” said he anxiously.
“No, I am not indeed; and by
this evening I shall have forgotten all about it.
But confess, Marquis,” she added, with a coquettish
laugh, “that this is a droll way of making an
acquaintance.”
Norbert started at the word Marquis,
for no one but Daumon had ever addressed him thus.
“She does not despise me,” thought he.
“This little incident will be
a lesson to me,” continued she. “Mamma
always has told me to keep to the highroad; but I preferred
the by-paths because of the lovely scenery.”
Norbert, for the first time in his
life, realized that the view was a beautiful one.
“I am this way nearly every
day,” pursued Diana, “though I am very
wicked to disobey my mother. I go to see poor
La Berven. She is dying of consumption, poor
thing, and I take her a little soup and wine every
now and then.”
She spoke like a real Sister of Mercy,
and, in Norbert’s opinion, wings only were lacking
to transform her into a perfect angel.
“The poor woman has three children,
and their father does nothing for them, for he drinks
what he earns,” the young girl went on.
Berven was one of the identical men
to whom Norbert had given his promissory note for
four thousand francs, for he was one of the two men
who had intrusted Daumon with their savings for investment;
but the young man was not in a condition to notice
this. Diana had meantime slung her basket on
her arm.
“Before I leave you to-day,”
said she, “I should so much like to ask a favor
of you.”
“A favor of me, mademoiselle?”
“Yes; oblige me by saying nothing
of what has occurred to-day to any one; for should
it come to my parents’ ears, they would undoubtedly
deprive me of the little liberty that they now grant
me.”
“Mademoiselle,” answered
Norbert, “be sure that I will never mention the
terrible accident that my awkwardness has caused.”
“Thank you, Marquis,”
answered the girl, with a half-mocking courtesy.
“Another time let me advise you, before you shoot,
to look that no one is behind a hedge.”
With these words she tripped away,
without her tiny feet showing any signs of lameness.
She had read Norbert’s heart like the pages of
a book, and felt that there was every chance of her
winning the game. “I am sure of it now,”
said she; “I shall be the Duchess of Champdoce.”
How grateful she felt for that untimely shot!
And she felt sure that Norbert had understood what
she meant when she had said that she went along that
path. She felt certain that the young man had
not lost one word. She believed that the only
opposition would come from his father. As she
looked round for a moment, she saw Norbert standing
fixed and motionless as the trees around him.
After Diana had departed, the unhappy
lad felt as if she had taken half his life with her.
Was it all a dream? He knelt down, and, after
a slight search, discovered the little pellet, the
cause of all the mischief; and, taking it up carefully,
returned home. To his extreme surprise, he found
the main gateway wide open, and from a window he heard
his father’s voice calling out in kindly accents, —
“Come up quickly, my boy, for our guest has
arrived.”