“Who’s there?” he asked.
“Silence, and open the little door for me,” said a voice that made him tremble.
Pale, moved, trembling, he obeyed. Diana entered quickly, and as he looked at her, without daring to believe her presence in his home, she got rid of a large black velvet coat entirely covered with furs, walked towards the fireplace, presented her wet boots to the fire, then turned around and, without saying a word, contemplated Lucien for a long time.
He was beginning to recover and standing on his desk, looking at her without having the strength to talk.
She was no longer the girl of yesteryear, already splendidly beautiful but still incomplete in some respects. Two years had been enough to perfect everything that was unfinished in her; her beauty had blossomed, and the flower had
