[Illustration: "_I plucked him off the duke and flung him on his back onthe sands_, "]

THE INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS

_Being a Story Concerning Two Ladies, a Nobleman, and a Necklace_

BY ANTHONY HOPE

AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA, " ETC. 

NEW YORK

1894

CONTENTS. 

 I. A MULTITUDE OF GOOD REASONS

 II. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF A SUPPER-TABLE

 III. THE UNEXPECTED THAT ALWAYS HAPPENED

 IV. THE DUCHESS DEFINES HER POSITION

 V. A STRATEGIC RETREAT

 VI. A HINT OF SOMETHING SERIOUS

 VII. HEARD THROUGH THE DOOR

 VIII. I FIND THAT I CARE

 IX. AN UNPARALLELED INSULT

 X. LEFT ON MY HANDS

 XI. A VERY CLEVER SCHEME

 XII. AS A MAN POSSESSED

 XIII. A TIMELY TRUCE

 XIV. FOR AN EMPTY BOX

 XV. I CHOOSE MY WAY

 XVI. THE INN NEAR PONTORSON

 XVII. A RELUCTANT INTRUSION

 XVIII. A STRANGE GOOD HUMOR

 XIX. UNSUMMONED WITNESSES

 XX. THE DUKE'S EPITAPH

 XXI. A PASSING CARRIAGE

 XXII. FROM SHADOW TO SUNSHINE

THE INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS. 

CHAPTER I. 

A Multitude of Good Reasons. 

In accordance with many most excellent precedents, I might begin byclaiming the sympathy due to an orphan alone in the world. I might evensummon my unguided childhood and the absence of parental training toexcuse my faults and extenuate my indiscretions. But the sympathy which Ishould thus gain would be achieved, I fear, by something very like falsepretenses. For my solitary state sat very lightly upon me--the sad eventswhich caused it being softened by the influence of time and habit--and hadthe recommendation of leaving me, not only free to manage my own life as Ipleased, but also possessed of a competence which added power to myfreedom. And as to the indiscretions--well, to speak it in all modesty andwith a becoming consciousness of human frailty, I think that the undoubtedindiscretions--that I may use no harder term--which were committed in thecourse of a certain fortnight were not for the most part of my doing orcontriving. For throughout the transactions which followed on my arrivalin France, I was rather the sport of circumstances than the originator ofany scheme; and the prominent part which I played was forced upon me, atfirst by whimsical chance, and later on by the imperious calls made uponme by the position into which I was thrust. 

The same reason that absolves me from the need of excuse deprives me ofthe claim to praise; and, looking back, I am content to find nothing ofwhich I need seriously be ashamed, and glad to acknowledge that, althoughFate chose to put me through some queer paces, she was not in the endmalevolent, and that, now the whole thing is finished, I have no cause tocomplain of the ultimate outcome of it. In saying that, I speak purely andsolely for myself. There is one other for whom I might perhaps venture tosay the same without undue presumption, but I will not; while for therest, it must suffice for me to record their fortunes, without entering onthe deep and grave questions which are apt to suggest themselves to anyonewho considers with a thoughtful mind the characters and the lives of thosewith whom he is brought in contact on his way through the world. The goodin wicked folk, the depths in shallow folk, the designs of haphazardminds, the impulsive follies of the cunning--all these exist, to be dimlydiscerned by any one of us, to be ignored by none save those who arecontent to label a man with the name of one quality and ignore all else inhim, but to be traced, fully understood, and intelligently shown forthonly by the few who are gifted to read and expound the secrets of humanhearts. That is a gift beyond my endowment, and fitted for a task toodifficult for my hand. Frankly, I did not, always and throughout, discernas clearly as I could desire the springs on which the conduct of myfellow-actors turned; and the account I have given of their feelings andtheir motives must be accepted merely as my reading of them, and for what, as such, it is worth. The actual facts speak for themselves. Let each manread them as he will; and if he does not indorse all my views, yet hewill, I venture to think, be recompensed by a story which even thegreatest familiarity and long pondering has not robbed of all its interestfor me. But then I must admit that I have reasons which no one else canhave for following with avidity every stage and every development in thedrama, and for seeking to discern now what at the time was dark andpuzzling to me. 

The thing began in the most ordinary way in the world--or perhaps that istoo strongly put. The beginning was ordinary indeed, and tame, comparedwith the sequel. Yet even the beginning had a flavor of the unusual aboutit, strong enough to startle a man so used to a humdrum life and sounversed in anything out of the common as I. Here, then, is the beginning:

One morning, as I sat smoking my after-breakfast cigar in my rooms in St. James' Street, my friend Gustave de Berensac rushed in. His bright browneyes were sparkling, his mustache seemed twisted up more gayly andtriumphantly than ever, and his manner was redolent of high spirits. Yetit was a dull, somber, misty morning, for all that the month was July andanother day or two would bring August. But Gustave was a merry fellow, though always (as I had occasion to remember later on) within the limitsof becoming mirth--as to which, to be sure, there may be much differenceof opinion. 

"Shame!" he cried, pointing at me. "You are a man of leisure, nothingkeeps you here; yet you stay in this _bouillon_ of an atmosphere, withFrance only twenty miles away over the sea!"

"They have fogs in France too, " said I. "But whither tends yourimpassioned speech, my good friend? Have you got leave?"

Gustave was at this time an extra secretary at the French Embassy inLondon. 

"Leave? Yes, I have leave--and, what is more, I have a charminginvitation. "

"My congratulations, " said I. 

"An invitation which includes a friend, " he continued, sitting down. "Ah, you smile! You mean that is less interesting?"

"A man may smile and smile, and not be a villain, " said I. "I meantnothing of the sort. I smiled at your exhilaration--nothing more, on theword of a moral Englishman. "

Gustave grimaced; then he waved his cigarette in the air, exclaiming:

"She is charming, my dear Gilbert!"

"The exhilaration is explained. "

"There is not a word to be said against her, " he added hastily. 

"That does not depress me, " said I. "But why should she invite me?"

"She doesn't invite you; she invites me to bring--anybody!"

"Then she is _ennuyée_, I presume?"

"Who would not be, placed as she is? He is inhuman!"

"_M. Le mari?_"

"You are not so stupid, after all! He forbids her to see a single soul; wemust steal our visit, if we go. "

"He is away, then?"

"The kind government has sent him on a special mission of inquiry toAlgeria. Three cheers for the government!"

"By all means, " said I. "When are you going to approach the subject of whothese people are?"

"You will not trust my discernment?"

"Alas, no! You are too charitable--to one half of humanity. "

"Well, I will tell you. She is a great friend of my sister's--they werebrought up in the same convent; she is also a good comrade of mine. "

"A good comrade?"

"That is just it; for I, you know, suffer hopelessly elsewhere. "

"What, Lady Cynthia still?"

"Still!" echoed Gustave with a tragic air. But he recovered in a moment. "Lady Cynthia being, however, in Switzerland, there is no reason why Ishould not go to Normandy. "

"Oh, Normandy?"

"Precisely. It is there that the duchess--"

"Oho! The duchess?"

"Is residing in retirement in a small _château_, alone save for mysister's society. "

"And a servant or two, I presume?"

"You are just right, a servant or two; for he is most stingy to her(though not, they say, to everybody), and gives her nothing when he isaway. "

"Money is a temptation, you see. "

"_Mon Dieu_, to have none is a greater!" and Gustave shook his headsolemnly. 

"The duchess of what?" I asked patiently. 

"You will have heard of her, " he said, with a proud smile. Evidently hethought that the lady was a trump card. "The Duchess of Saint-Maclou. "

I laid down my cigar, maintaining, however, a calm demeanor. 

"Aha!" said Gustave. "You will come, my friend?"

I could not deny that Gustave had a right to his little triumph; for ayear ago, when the duchess had visited England with her husband, I hadreceived an invitation to meet her at the Embassy. Unhappily, the death ofa relative (whom I had never seen) occurring the day before, I had beenobliged to post off to Ireland, and pay proper respect by appearing at thefuneral. When I returned the duchess had gone, and Gustave had, half-ironically, consoled my evident annoyance by telling me that he hadgiven such a description of me to his friend that she shared my sorrow, and had left a polite message to that effect. That I was not much consoledneeds no saying. That I required consolation will appear not unnaturalwhen I say that the duchess was one of the most brilliant and well-knownpersons in French society; yes, and outside France also. For she was acosmopolitan. Her father was French, her mother American; and she hadpassed two or three years in England before her marriage. She was verypretty, and, report said, as witty as a pretty woman need be. Once she hadbeen rich, but the money was swallowed up by speculation; she and herfather (the mother was dead) were threatened with such reduction of meansas seemed to them penury; and the marriage with the duke had speedilyfollowed--the precise degree of unwillingness on the part of Mlle. DeBeville being a disputed point. Men said she was forced into the marriage, women very much doubted it; the lady herself gave no indication, and herfather declared that the match was one of affection. All this I had heardfrom common friends; only a series of annoying accidents had prevented themore interesting means of knowledge which acquaintance with the duchessherself would have afforded. 

"You have always, " said Gustave, "wanted to know her. "

I relit my cigar and puffed thoughtfully. It was true that I had ratherwished to know her. 

"My belief is, " he continued, "that though she says 'anybody, ' she meansyou. She knows what friends we are; she knows you are eager to be amongher friends; she would guess that I should ask you first. "

I despise and hate a man who is not open to flattery: he is a hard, morose, distrustful, cynical being, doubting the honesty of his friendsand the worth of his own self. I leant an ear to Gustave's suggestion. 

"What she would not guess, " he said, throwing his cigarette into thefireplace and rising to his feet, "is that you would refuse when I did askyou. What shall be the reason? Shocked, are you? Or afraid?"

Gustave spoke as though nothing could either shock or frighten him. 

"I'm merely considering whether it will amuse me, " I returned. "How longare we asked for?"

"That depends on diplomatic events. "

"The mission to Algeria?"

"Why, precisely. "

I put my hands in my pockets. 

"I should certainly be glad, my dear Gustave, " said I, "to meet yoursister again. "

"We take the boat for Cherbourg to-morrow evening!" he cried triumphantly, slapping me on the back. "And, in my sister's name, many thanks! I willmake it clear to the duchess why you come. "

"No need to make bad blood between them like that, " I laughed. 

In fine, I was pleased to go; and, on reflection, there was no reason whyI should not go. I said as much to Gustave. 

"Seeing that everybody is going out of town and the place will be a desertin a week, I'm certainly not wanted here just now. "

"And seeing that the duke is gone to Algeria, we certainly are wantedthere, " said Gustave. 

"And a man should go where he is wanted, " said I. 

"And a man is wanted, " said Gustave, "where a lady bids him come. "

"It would, " I cried, "be impolite not to go. "

"It would be dastardly. Besides, think how you will enjoy the memory ofit!"

"The memory?" I repeated, pausing in my eager walk up and down. 

"It will be a sweet memory, " he said. 

"Ah!"

"Because, my friend, it is prodigiously unwise--for you. "

"And not for you?"

"Why, no. Lady Cynthia--"

He broke off, content to indicate the shield that protected him. But itwas too late to draw back. 

"Let it be as unwise, " said I, "as it will--"

"Or as the duke is, " put in Gustave, with a knowing twinkle in his eye. 

"Yet it is a plan as delightful--"

"As the duchess is, " said Gustave. 

And so, for all the excellent reasons which may be collected from theforegoing conversation, --and if carefully tabulated they would, I ampersuaded, prove as numerous as weighty, --I went. 

CHAPTER II. 

The Significance of a Supper-Table. 

The Aycons of Aycon Knoll have always been a hard-headed, levelheadedrace. We have had no enthusiasms, few ambitions, no illusions, and notmany scandals. We keep our heads on our shoulders and our purses in ourpockets. We do not rise very high, but we have never sunk. We abide at theKnoll from generation to generation, deeming our continued existence initself a service to the state and an honor to the house. We think morehighly of ourselves than we admit, and allow ourselves to smile when wewalk in to dinner behind the new nobility. We grow just a little richerwith every decade, and add a field or two to our domains once in fiveyears. The gaps made by falling rents we have filled by judiciouspurchases of land near rising towns; and we have no doubt that there liesbefore us a future as long and prosperous as our past has been. We are notuniversally popular, and we see in the fact a tribute to our valuablequalities. 

I venture to mention these family virtues and characteristics because ithas been thought in some quarters that I displayed them but to a veryslight degree in the course of the expedition on which I was now embarked. The impression is a mistaken one. As I have said before, I did nothingthat was not forced upon me. Any of my ancestors would, I am sure, havedone the same, had they chanced to be thrown under similar circumstancesinto the society of Mme. De Saint-Maclou and of the other persons whom Iwas privileged to meet; and had those other persons happened to act in themanner in which they did when I fell in with them. 

Gustave maintained his gayety and good spirits unabated through the trialsof our voyage to Cherbourg. The mild mystery that attended our excursionwas highly to his taste. He insisted on our coming without servants. Hepersuaded me to leave no address; obliged to keep himself within touch ofthe Embassy, he directed letters to be sent to Avranches, where, heexplained, he could procure them; for, as he thought it safe to disclosewhen a dozen miles of sea separated us from the possibility of curiouslisteners, the house to which we were bound stood about ten miles distantfrom that town, in a retired and somewhat desolate bit of country liningthe seashore. 

"My sister says it is the most _triste_ place in the world, " said he; "butwe shall change all that when we arrive. "

There was nothing to prevent our arriving very soon to relieve Mlle. DeBerensac's depression, for the middle of the next day found us atAvranches, and we spent the afternoon wandering about somewhat aimlesslyand staring across the bay at the mass of Mont St. Michel. Directlybeneath us as we stood on the hill, and lying in a straight line with theMount, there was a large square white house, on the very edge of thestretching sand. We were told that it was a convent. 

"But the whole place is no livelier than one, " said I, yawning. "My dearfellow, why don't we go on?"

"It is right for you to see this interesting town, " answered Gustavegravely, but with a merry gleam in his eye. "However, I have ordered acarriage, so be patient. "

"For what time?"

"Nine o'clock, when we have dined. "

"We are to get there in the dark, then?"

"What reason is there against that?" he asked, smiling. 

"None, " said I; and I went to pack up my bag. 

In my room I chanced to find a _femme-de-chambre_. To her I put a questionor two as to the gentry of the neighborhood. She rattled me off a fewdistinguished names, and ended:

"The duke of Saint-Maclou has also a small _château_. "

"Is he there now?" I asked. 

"The duchess only, sir, " she answered. "Ah, they tell wonderful stories ofher!"

"Do they? Pray, of what kind?"

"Oh, not to her harm, sir; or, at least, not exactly, though to simplecountry-folk--"

The national shrug was an appropriate ending. 

"And the duke?"

"He is a good man, " she answered earnestly, "and a very clever man. He isvery highly thought of at Paris, sir. "

I had hoped, secretly, to hear that he was a villain; but he was a goodman. It was a scurvy trick to play on a good man. Well, there was no helpfor it. I packed my bag with some dawning misgivings; the chambermaid, undisturbed by my presence, went on rubbing the table with somestrong-smelling furniture polish. 

"At least, " she observed, as though there had been no pause, "he givesmuch to the church and to the poor. "

"It may be repentance, " said I, looking up with a hopeful air. 

"It is possible, sir. "

"Or, " cried I, with a smile, "hypocrisy?"

The chambermaid's shake of her head refused to accept this idea; but myconscience, fastening on it, found rest. I hesitated no longer. The manwas a cunning hypocrite. I would go on cheerfully, secure that he deservedall the bamboozling which the duchess and my friend Gustave might preparefor him. 

At nine o'clock, as Gustave had arranged, we started in a heavy carriagedrawn by two great white horses and driven by a stolid fat hostler. Slowlywe jogged along under the stars, St. Michel being our continual companionon the right hand, as we followed the road round the bay. When we had gonefive or six miles, we turned suddenly inland. There were banks on eachside of the road now, and we were going uphill; for rising out of theplain there was a sudden low spur of higher ground. 

"Is the house at the top?" I asked Gustave. 

"Just under the top, " said he. 

"I shall walk, " said I. 

The fact is, I had grown intolerably impatient of our slow jog, which hadnow sunk to a walk. 

We jumped out and strode on ahead, soon distancing our carriage, andwaking echoes with our merry talk. 

"I rather wonder they have not come to meet us, " said Gustave. "See, thereis the house. "

A sudden turn in the road had brought us in sight of it. It was a rathersmall modern Gothic _château_. It nestled comfortably below the hill, which rose very steeply immediately behind it. The road along which wewere approaching appeared to afford the only access, and no other housewas visible. But, desolate as the spot certainly was, the house itselfpresented a gay appearance, for there were lights in every window fromground to roof. 

"She seems to have company, " I observed. 

"It is that she expects us, " answered Gustave. "This illumination is inour honor. "

"Come on, " said I, quickening my pace; and Gustave burst out laughing. 

"I knew you would catch fire when once I got you started!" he cried. 

Suddenly a voice struck on my ear--a clear, pleasant voice:

"Was he slow to catch fire, my dear Gustave?"

I started. Gustave looked round. 

"It is she, " he said. "Where is she?"

"Was he slow to catch fire?" asked the voice again. "Well, he has but justcome near the flame"--and a laugh followed the words. 

"Slow to light is long to burn, " said I, turning to the bank on the leftside of the road, for it was thence that the voice came. 

A moment later a little figure in white darted down into the road, laughing and panting. She seized Gustave's hand. 

"I ran so hard to meet you!" she cried. 

"And have you brought Claire with you?" he asked. 

"Present your friend to me, " commanded the duchess, as though she had notheard his question. 

Did I permit myself to guess at such things, I should have guessed theduchess to be about twenty-five years old. She was not tall; her hair wasa dark brown, and the color in her cheeks rich but subdued. She moved withextraordinary grace and agility, and seemed never at rest. The one term ofpraise (if it be one, which I sometimes incline to doubt) that I havenever heard applied to her is--dignified. 

"It is most charming of you to come, Mr. Aycon, " said she. "I've heard somuch of you, and you'll be so terribly dull!"

"With yourself, madame, and Mlle. De Berensac--"

"Oh, of course you must say that!" she interrupted. "But come along, supper is ready. How delightful to have supper again! I'm never in goodenough spirits to have supper when I'm alone. You'll be terriblyuncomfortable, gentlemen. The whole household consists of an old man andfive women--counting myself. "

"And are they all--?" began Gustave. 

"Discreet?" she asked, interrupting again. "Oh, they will not tell thetruth! Never fear, my dear Gustave!"

"What news of the duke?" asked he, as we began to walk, the duchessstepping a little ahead of us. 

"Oh, the best, " said she, with a nod over her shoulder. "None, you know. That's one of your proverbs, Mr. Aycon?"

"Even a proverb is true sometimes, " I ventured to remark. 

We reached the house and passed through the door, which stood wide open. Crossing the hall, we found ourselves in a small square room, furnishedwith rose-colored hangings. Here supper was spread. Gustave walked up tothe table. The duchess flung herself into an armchair. She had taken herhandkerchief out of her pocket, and she held it in front of her lips andseemed to be biting it. Her eyebrows were raised, and her face displayed acomical mixture of amusement and apprehension. A glance of her eyes at meinvited me to share the perilous jest, in which Gustave's demeanorappeared to bear the chief part. 

Gustave stood by the table, regarding it with a puzzled air. 

"One--two--three!" he exclaimed aloud, counting the covers laid. 

The duchess said nothing, but her eyebrows mounted a little higher, tillthey almost reached her clustering hair. 

"One--two--three?" repeated Gustave, in unmistakable questioning. "DoesClaire remain upstairs?"

Appeal--amusement--fright--shame--triumph--chased one another across theeyes of Mme. De Saint-Maclou: each made so swift an appearance, so swiftan exit, that they seemed to blend in some peculiar personal emotionproper to the duchess and to no other woman born. And she bit thehandkerchief harder than ever. For the life of me I couldn't help it; Ibegan to laugh; the duchess' face disappeared altogether behind thehandkerchief. 

"Do you mean to say Claire's not here?" cried Gustave, turning on herswiftly and accusingly. 

The head behind the handkerchief was shaken, first timidly, then moreemphatically, and a stifled voice vouchsafed the news:

"She left three days ago. "

Gustave and I looked at one another. There was a pause. At last I drew achair back from the table, and said:

"If madame is ready--"

The duchess whisked her handkerchief away and sprang up. She gave one lookat Gustave's grave face, and then, bursting into a merry laugh, caught meby the arm, crying:

"Isn't it fun, Mr. Aycon? There's nobody but me! Isn't it fun?"

CHAPTER III. 

The Unexpected that Always Happened. 

Everything depends on the point of view and is rich in varying aspects. Apicture is sublime from one corner of the room, a daub from another; awoman's full face may be perfect, her profile a disappointment; above all, what you admire in yourself becomes highly distasteful in your neighbor. The moral is, I suppose, Tolerance; or if not that, something else whichhas escaped me. 

When the duchess said that "it"--by which she meant the whole position ofaffairs--was "fun, " I laughed; on the other hand, Gustave de Berensac, after one astonished stare, walked to the hall door. 

"Where is my carriage?" we heard him ask. 

"It has started on the way back three, minutes ago, sir. "

"Fetch it back. "

"Sir! The driver will gallop down the hill; he could not be overtaken. "

"How fortunate!" said I. 

"I do not see, " observed Mme. De Saint-Maclou, "that it makes all thatdifference. "

She seemed hurt at the serious way in which Gustave took her joke. 

"If I had told the truth, you wouldn't have come, " she said injustification. 

"Not another word is necessary, " said I, with a bow. 

"Then let us sup, " said the duchess, and she took the armchair at the headof the table. 

We began to eat and drink, serving ourselves. Presently Gustave entered, stood regarding us for a moment, and then flung himself into the thirdchair and poured out a glass of wine. The duchess took no notice of him. 

"Mlle, de Berensac was called away?" I suggested. 

"She was called away, " answered the duchess. 

"Suddenly?"

"No, " said the duchess, her eyes again full of complicated expressions. Ilaughed. Then she broke out in a plaintive cry: "Oh! were you everdying--dying--dying of weariness?"

Gustave made no reply; the frown on his face persisted. 

"Isn't it a pity, " I asked, "to wreck a pleasant party for the sake of afine distinction? The presence of Mlle. De Berensac would have infinitelyincreased our pleasure; but how would it have diminished our crime?"

"I wish I had known you sooner, Mr. Aycon, " said the duchess; "then Ineedn't have asked him at all. "

I bowed, but I was content with things as they were. The duchess sat withthe air of a child who has been told that she is naughty, but declines toaccept the statement. I was puzzled at the stern morality exhibited by myfriend Gustave. His next remark threw some light on his feelings. 

"Heavens! if it became known, what would be thought?" he demandedsuddenly. 

"If one thinks of what is thought, " said the duchess with a shrug, "oneis--"

"A fool, " said I, "or--a lover!"

"Ah!" cried the duchess, a smile coming on her lips. "If it is that, I'llforgive you, my dear Gustave. Whose good opinion do you fear to lose?"

"I write, " said Gustave, with a rhetorical gesture, "to say that I amgoing to the house of some friends to meet my sister!"

"Oh, you write?" we murmured. 

"My sister writes to say she is not there!"

"Oh, she writes?" we murmured again. 

"And it is thought--"

"By whom?" asked the duchess. 

"By Lady Cynthia Chillingdon, " said I. 

"That it is a trick--a device--a deceit!" continued poor Gustave. 

"It was decidedly indiscreet of you to come, " said the duchessreprovingly. "How was I to know about Lady Cynthia? If I had known aboutLady Cynthia, I would not have asked you; I would have asked Mr. Aycononly. Or perhaps you also, Mr. Aycon--"

"Madame, " said I, "I am alone in the world. "

"Where has Claire gone to?" asked Gustave. 

"Paris, " pouted the duchess. 

Gustave rose, flinging his napkin on the table. 

"I shall follow her to-morrow, " he said. "I suppose you'll go back toEngland, Gilbert?"

If Gustave left us, it was my unhesitating resolve to return to England. 

"I suppose I shall, " said I. 

"I suppose you must, " said the duchess ruefully. "Oh, isn't itexasperating? I had planned it all so delightfully!"

"If you had told the truth--" began Gustave. 

"I should not have had a preacher to supper, " said the duchess sharply;then she fell to laughing again. 

"Is Mlle. De Berensac irrecoverable?" I suggested. 

"Why, yes. She has gone to take her turn of attendance on your rich oldaunt, Gustave. "

I think that there was a little malice in the duchess' way of saying this. 

There seemed nothing more to be done. The duchess herself did not proposeto defy conventionality to the extent of inviting me to stay. To do herjustice, as soon as the inevitable was put before her, she accepted itwith good grace, and, after supper, busied herself in discovering the timeand manner in which her guests might pursue their respective journeys. Imay be flattering myself, but I thought that she displayed a melancholysatisfaction on discovering that Gustave de Berensac must leave at teno'clock the next morning, whereas I should be left to kick my heels inidleness at Cherbourg if I set out before five in the afternoon. 

"Oh, you can spend the time _en route_, " said Gustave. "It will bebetter. "

The duchess looked at me; I looked at the duchess. 

"My dear Gustave, " said I, "you are very considerate. You could not domore if I also were in love with Lady Cynthia. "

"Nor, " said the duchess, "if I were quite unfit to be spoken to. "

"If my remaining till the afternoon will not weary the duchess--" said I. 

"The duchess will endure it, " said she, with a nod and a smile. 

Thus it was settled, a shake of the head conveying Gustave's judgment. Andsoon after, Mme. De Saint-Maclou bade us good-night. Tired with myjourney, and (to tell the truth) a little out of humor with my friend, Iwas not long in seeking my bed. At the top of the stairs a group of threegirls were gossiping; one of them handed me a candle and flung open thedoor of my room with a roguish smile on her broad good-tempered face. 

"One of the greatest virtues of women, " said I pausing on the threshold, "is fidelity. "

"We are devoted to Mme. La Duchesse, " said the girl. 

"Another, hardly behind it, is discretion, " I continued. 

"Madame inculcates it on us daily, " said she. I took out a napoleon. 

"Ladies, " said I, placing the napoleon in the girl's hand, "I am obligedfor your kind attentions. Good-night!" and I shut the door on the sound ofa pleased, excited giggling. I love to hear such sounds; they make melaugh myself, for joy that this old world, in spite of everything, holdsso much merriment; and to their jovial lullaby I fell asleep, Moreover--the duchess teaching discretion! There can have been nothinglike it since Baby Charles and Steenie conversed within the hearing ofKing James! But, then discretion has two meanings--whereof the one is "Doit not, " and the other "Tell it not. " Considering of this ambiguity, Iacquitted the duchess of hypocrisy. 

At ten o'clock the next morning we got rid of my dear friend Gustave deBerensac. Candor compels me to put the statement in that form; for thegravity which had fallen upon him the night before endured till themorning, and he did not flinch from administering something very like alecture to his hostess. His last words were an invitation to me to getinto the carriage and start with him. When I suavely declined, he told methat I should regret it. It comforts me to think that his prophecy, thoughmore than once within an ace of the most ample fulfillment, yet in the endwas set at naught by the events which followed. 

Gustave rolled down the hill, the duchess sighed relief. 

"Now, " said she, "we can enjoy ourselves fora few hours, Mr. Aycon. Andafter that--solitude!"

I was really very sorry for the duchess. Evidently society and gayety werenecessary as food and air to her, and her churl of a husband denied them. My opportunity was short, but I laid myself out to make the most of it. Icould give her nothing more than a pleasant memory, but I determined to dothat. 

We spent the greater part of the day in a ramble through the woods thatlined the slopes of the hill behind the house; and all through the hoursthe duchess chatted about herself, her life, her family--and then aboutthe duke. If the hints she gave were to be trusted, her husband deservedlittle consideration at her hands, and, at the worst, the plea of reprisalmight offer some excuse for her, if she had need of one. But she deniedthe need, and here I was inclined to credit her. For with me, as withGustave de Berensac before the shadow of Lady Cynthia came between, shewas, most distinctly, a "good comrade. " Sentiment made no appearance inour conversation, and, as the day ruthlessly wore on, I regretted honestlythat I must go in deference to a conventionality which seemed, in thiscase at least--Heaven forbid that I should indulge in general theories--tomask no reality. Yet she was delightful by virtue of the vitality in her;and the woods echoed again and again with our laughter. 

At four o'clock we returned sadly to the house, where the merry girlsbusied themselves in preparing a repast for me. The duchess insisted onsharing my meal. 

"I shall go supperless to bed to-night, " said she; and we sat down glum astwo children going back to school. 

Suddenly there was a commotion outside; the girls were talking to oneanother in rapid eager tones. The duchess raised her head, listening. Thenshe turned to me, asking:

"Can you hear what they say?"

"I can distinguish nothing except 'Quick, quick!'"

As I spoke the door was thrown open, and two rushed in, the foremostsaying:

"Again, madame, again!"

"Impossible!" exclaimed the duchess, starting up. 

"No, it is true. Jean was out, snaring a rabbit, and caught sight of thecarriage. "

"What carriage? Whose carriage?" I asked. 

"Why, my husband's, " said the duchess, quite calmly. "It is a favoritetrick of his to surprise us. But Algeria! We thought we were safe withAlgeria. He must travel underground like a mole, Suzanne, or we shouldhave heard. "

"Oh, one hears nothing here!"

"And what, " said the duchess, "are we to do with Mr. Aycon?"

"I can solve that, " I observed. "I'm off. "

"But he'll see you!" cried the girl. "He is but a half-mile off. "

"Mr. Aycon could take the side-path, " said the duchess. 

"The duke would see him before he reached it, " said the girl. "He would bein sight for nearly fifty yards. "

"Couldn't I hide in the bushes?" I asked. 

"I hate anything that looks suspicious, " remarked the duchess, still quitecalm; "and if he happened to see you, it would look rather suspicious! Andhe has got eyes like a cat's for anything of that sort. "

There was no denying that it would look suspicious if I were caught hidingin the bushes. I sat silent, having no other suggestion to make. 

Suzanne, with a readiness not born, I hope, of practice, came to therescue with a clever suggestion. 

"The English groom whom madame dismissed a week ago--" said she. "Whyshould not the gentleman pass as the groom? The man would not take his oldclothes away, for he had bought new ones, and they are still here. Thegentleman would put them on and walk past--_voilà_. "

"Can you look like a groom?" asked the duchess. "If he speaks to you, makeyour French just a _little_ worse"--and she smiled. 

They were all so calm and businesslike that it would have seemeddisobliging and absurd to make difficulties. 

"We can send your luggage soon, you know, " said the duchess. "You hadbetter hide Mr. Aycon's luggage in your room, Suzanne. Really, I am afraidyou ought to be getting ready, Mr. Aycon. "

The point of view again! By virtue of the duchess' calmness and Suzanne'scool readiness, the proceeding seemed a most ordinary one. Five minuteslater I presented myself to the duchess, dressed in a villainous suit ofclothes, rather too tight for me, and wearing a bad hat rakishly cockedover one eye. The duchess surveyed me with great curiosity. 

"Fortunately the duke is not a very clever man, " said she. "Oh, by theway, your name's George Sampson, and you come from Newmarket; and you areleaving because you took more to drink than was good for you. Good-by, Mr. Aycon. I do hope that we shall meet again under pleasanter circumstances. "

"They could not be pleasanter--but they might be more prolonged, " said I. 

"It was so good of you to come, " she said, pressing my hand. 

"The carriage is but a quarter of a mile off!" cried Suzanne warningly. 

"How very annoying it is! I wish to Heaven the Algerians had eaten theduke!"

"I shall not forget my day here, " I assured her. 

"You won't? It's charming of you. Oh, how dull it will be now! It onlywanted the arrival of--Well, good-by!"

And with a final and long pressure of the duchess' hand, I, in the garband personality of George Sampson, dismissed for drunkenness, walked outof the gate of the _château_. 

"One thing, " I observed to myself as I started, "would seem highlyprobable--and that is, that this sort of thing has happened before. "

The idea did not please me. I like to do things first. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Duchess Defines Her Position. 

I walked on at a leisurely pace; the heavy carriage was very near the topof the hill. In about three minutes' time we met. There sat alone in thecarriage a tall dark man, with a puffy white face, a heavy mustache, andstern cold eyes. He was smoking a cigar. I plucked my hat from my head andmade as if to pass by. 

"Who's this?" he called out, stopping the carriage. 

I began to recite my lesson in stumbling French. 

"Why, what are you? Oh, you're English! Then in Heaven's name, speakEnglish--not that gabble. " And then he repeated his order, "SpeakEnglish, " in English, and continued in that language, which he spoke withstiff formal correctness. 

He heard my account of myself with unmoved face. 

"Have you any writings--any testimonials?" he asked. 

"No, my lord, " I stammered, addressing him in style I thought most naturalto my assumed character. 

"That's a little curious, isn't it? You become intoxicated everywhere, perhaps?"

"I've never been intoxicated in my life, my lord, " said I, humbly butfirmly. 

"Then you dispute the justice of your dismissal?"

"Yes, my lord. " I thought such protest due to my original. 

He looked at me closely, smoking his cigar the while. 

"You made love to the chambermaids?" he asked suddenly. 

"No, my lord. One evening, my lord, it was very hot, and--and the wine, mylord--"

"Then you were intoxicated?"

I fumbled with my hat, praying that the fellow would move on. 

"What servants are there?" he asked, pointing to the house. 

"Four maids, my lord, and old Jean. "

Again he meditated; then he said sharply:

"Have you ever waited at table?"

We have all, I suppose, waited at table--in one sense. Perhaps that maysave my remark from untruth. 

"Now and then, my lord, " I answered, wondering what he would be at. 

"I have guests arriving to-morrow, " he said. "My man comes with them, butthe work will perhaps be too much for him. Are you willing to stay andhelp? I will pay you the same wages. "

I could have laughed in his face; but duty seemed to point to seriousness. 

"I'm very sorry, my lord--" I began. 

"What, have you got another place?"

"No, my lord; not exactly. "

"Then get up on the front seat. Or do you want your employers to say youare disobliging as well as drunken?"

"But the lady sent me--"

"You may leave that to me. Come, jump up! Don't keep me waiting!"

Doubtfully I stood in the road, the duke glaring at me with impatientanger. Then he leaned forward and said:

"You are curiously reluctant, sir, to earn your living. I don't understandit. I must make some inquiries about you. "

I detected suspicion dawning in his eyes. He was a great man; I did notknow what hindrances he might not be able to put in the way of mydisappearance. And what would happen if he made his inquiries? Inquiriesmight mean searching, and I carried a passport in the name of GilbertAycon. 

Such share had prudence; the rest must be put down to the sudden impulseof amusement which seized me. It was but for a day or two! Then I couldsteal away. Meanwhile what would not the face of the duchess say, when Irode up on the front seat!

"I--I was afraid I should not give satisfaction, " I muttered. 

"You probably won't, " said he. "I take you from necessity, not choice, myfriend. Up with you!"

And I got up beside the driver--not, luckily, the one who had broughtGustave de Berensac and myself the day before--and the carriage resumedits slow climb up the hill. 

We stopped at the door. I jumped down and assisted my new master. 

The door was shut. Nobody was to be seen; evidently we were not expected. The duke smiled sardonically, opened the door and walked in, I justbehind. Suzanne was sweeping the floor. With one glance at the duke andmyself, she sprang back, with a cry of most genuine surprise. 

"Oh, you're mighty surprised, aren't you?" sneered the duke. "Old Jeandidn't scuttle away to tell you then? You keep a good watch, young woman. Your mistress' orders, eh?"

Still Suzanne stared--and at me. The duke chuckled. 

"Yes, he's back again, " said he, "so you must make the best of it, mygirl. Where's the duchess?"

"In--in--in her sitting-room, M. Le Duc. "

"'In--in--in, '" he echoed mockingly. Then he stepped swiftly across thehall and flung the door suddenly open. I believe he thought that he reallyhad surprised Jean's slow aged scamper ahead of him. 

"Silence for your life!" I had time to whisper to Suzanne; and then Ifollowed him. There might be more "fun" to come. 

The duchess was sitting with a book in her hand. I was half-hidden by theduke, and she did not see me. She looked up, smiled, yawned, and held outher hand. 

"I hardly expected you, Armand, " said she. "I thought you were inAlgeria. "

Anybody would have been annoyed; there is no doubt that the Duke ofSaint-Maclou was very much annoyed. 

"You don't seem overjoyed at the surprise, " said he gruffly. 

"You are always surprising me, " she answered, lifting her eyebrows. 

Suddenly he turned round, saying "Sampson!" and then turned to her, adding:

"Here's another old friend for you. " And he seized me by the shoulder andpulled me into the room. 

The duchess sprang to her feet, crying out in startled tones, "Back?"

I kept my eyes glued to the floor, wondering what would happen next, thinking that it would be, likely enough, a personal conflict with mymaster. 

"Yes, back, " said he. "I am sorry, madame, if it is not your pleasure, forit chances to be mine. "

His sneer gave the duchess a moment's time. I felt her regarding me, and Ilooked up cautiously. The duke still stood half a pace in front of me, andthe message of my glance sped past him unperceived. 

Then came what I had looked for--the gradual dawning of the position onthe duchess, and the reflection of that dawning light in those wonderfuleyes of hers. She clasped her hands, and drew in her breath in a long"Oh!" It spoke utter amusement and delight. What would the duke make ofit? He did not know what to make of it, and glared at her in angrybewilderment. Her quick wit saw the blunder she had been betrayed into. She said "Oh!" again, but this time it expressed nothing except a sense ofinsult and indignation. 

"What's that man here for?" she asked. 

"Because I have engaged him to assist my household. "

"I had dismissed him, " she said haughtily. 

"I must beg you to postpone the execution of your decree, " said he. "Ihave need of a servant, and I have no time to find another. "

"What need is there of another? Is not Lafleur here?" (She was playing herpart well now. )

"Lafleur comes to-morrow; but he will not be enough. "

"Not enough--for you and me?"

"Our party will be larger to-morrow. "

"More surprises?" she asked, sinking back into her chair. 

"If it be a surprise that I should invite my friends to my house, " heretorted. 

"And that you should not consult your wife, " she said, with a smile. 

He turned to me, bethinking himself, I suppose, that the conversation wasnot best suited for the ears of the groom. 

"Go and join your fellow-servants; and see that you behave yourself thistime. "

I bowed and was about to withdraw, when the duchess motioned me to stop. For an instant her eyes rested on mine. Then she said, in gentle tones:

"I am glad, Sampson, that the duke thinks it safe to give you anopportunity of retrieving your character. "

"That for his character!" said the duke, snapping his fingers. "I want himto help when Mme. And Mlle. Delhasse are here. "

On the words the duchess went red in the face, and then white, and sprangup, declaring aloud in resolute, angry tones, that witnessed the depth ofher feelings in the matter:

"I will not receive Mlle. Delhasse!"

I was glad I had not missed that: it was a new aspect of my little friendthe duchess. Alas, my pleasure was short-lived! for the duke, his facefull of passion, pointed to the door, saying "Go!" and, cursing his regardfor the dignity of the family, I went. 

In the hall I paused. At first I saw nobody. Presently a rosy, beamingface peered at me over the baluster halfway up the stairs, and Suzannestole cautiously down, her finger on her lips. 

"But what does it mean, sir?" she whispered. 

"It means, " said I, "that the duke takes me for the dismissed groom--andhas re-engaged me. "

"And you've come?" she cried softly, clasping her hands in amazement. 

"Doesn't it appear so?"

"And you're going to stay, sir?"

"Ah, that's another matter. But--for the moment, yes. "

"As a servant?"

"Why not--in such good company?"

"Does madame know?"

"Yes, she knows, Suzanne. Come, show me the way to my quarters; and nomore 'sir' just now. "

We were standing by the stairs. I looked up and saw the other girlsclustered on the landing above us. 

"Go and tell them, " I said. "Warn them to show no surprise. Then come backand show me the way. "

Suzanne, her mirth half-startled out of her but yet asserting itsexistence in dimples round her mouth, went on her errand. I leaned againstthe lowest baluster and waited. 

Suddenly the door of the duchess' room was flung open and she came out. She stood for an instant on the threshold. She turned toward the interiorof the room and she stamped her foot on the parqueted floor. 

"No--no--no!" she said passionately, and flung the door close behind her, to the accompaniment of a harsh, scornful laugh. 

Involuntarily I sprang forward to meet her. But she was better on herguard than I. 

"Not now, " she whispered, "but I must see you soon--this evening--afterdinner. Suzanne will arrange it. You must help me, Mr. Aycon; I'm introuble. "

"With all my power!" I whispered, and with a glance of thanks she spedupstairs. I saw her stop and speak to the group of girls, talking to themin an eager whisper. Then, followed by two of them, she pursued her wayupstairs. 

Suzanne came down and approached me, saying simply, "Come, " and led theway toward the servants' quarters. I followed her, smiling; I was about tomake acquaintance with a new side of life. 

Yet at the same time I was wondering who Mlle. Delhasse might chance tobe: the name seemed familiar to me, and yet for the moment I could nottrace it. And then I slapped my thigh in the impulse of my discovery. 

"By Jove, Marie Delhasse the singer!" cried I, in English. 

"Sir, sir, for Heaven's sake be quiet!" whispered Suzanne. 

"You are perfectly right, " said I, with a nod of approbation. 

"And this is the pantry, " said Suzanne, for all the world as thoughnothing had happened. "And in that cupboard you will find Sampson'slivery. "

"Is it a pretty one?" I asked. 

"You, sir, will look well in it, " said she, with that delicate evasiveflattery that I love. "Would not you, sir, look well in anything?" shemeant. 

And while I changed my traveling suit for the livery, I remembered moreabout Marie Delhasse, and, among other things, that the Duke ofSaint-Maclou was rumored to be her most persistent admirer. Some said thatshe favored him; others denied it with more or less conviction andindignation. But, whatever might chance to be the truth about that, it wasplain that the duchess had something to say for herself when she declinedto receive the lady. Her refusal was no idle freak, but a fixeddetermination, to which she would probably adhere. And, in fact, adhere toit she did, even under some considerable changes of circumstance. 

CHAPTER V. 

A Strategic Retreat. 

The arrival of the duke, aided perhaps by his bearing toward his wife andtoward me, had a somewhat curious effect on me. I will not say that I feltat liberty to fall in love with the duchess; but I felt the chain ofhonor, which had hitherto bound me from taking any advantage of herindiscretion, growing weaker; and I also perceived the possibility of myinclinations beginning to strain on the weakened chain. On this account, among others, I resolved, as I sat in the pantry drinking a glass of winewith which Suzanne kindly provided me, that my sojourn in the duke'shousehold should be of the shortest. Moreover, I was not amused; I was nota real groom; the maids treated me with greater distance and deferencethan before; I lost the entertainment of upstairs, and did not gain theinterest of downstairs. The absurd position must be ended. I would hearwhat the duchess wanted of me; then I would go, leaving Lafleur to grapplewith his increased labors as best he could. True, I should miss MarieDelhasse. Well, young men are foolish. 

"Perhaps, " said I to myself with a sigh, "it's just as well. "

I did not wait at table that night; the duchess was shut up in her ownapartment: the duke took nothing but an omelette and a cup of coffee;these finished, he summoned Suzanne and her assistants to attend him onthe bedroom floor, and I heard him giving directions for the lodging ofthe expected guests. Apparently they were to be received, although theduchess would not receive them. Not knowing what to make of thatsituation, I walked out into the garden and lit my pipe; I had clung tothat in spite of my change of raiment. 

Presently Suzanne looked out. A call from the duke proclaimed that she hadstolen a moment. She nodded, pointed to the narrow gravel path which ledinto the shrubbery, and hastily withdrew. I understood, and strolledcarelessly along the path till I reached the shrubbery. There anotherlittle path, running nearly at right angles to that by which I had come, opened before me. I strolled some little way along, and finding myselfentirely hidden from the house by the intervening trees, I sat down on arude wooden bench to wait patiently till I should be wanted. For theduchess I should have had to wait some time, but for company I did notwait long; after about ten minutes I perceived a small, spare, dark-complexioned man coming along the path toward me and toward thehouse. He must have made a short cut from the road, escaping the windingof the carriage-way. He wore decent but rather shabby clothes, and carrieda small valise in his hand. Stopping opposite to me, he raised his hat andseemed to scan my neat blue brass-buttoned coat and white cords withinterest. 

"You belong to the household of the duke, sir?" he asked, with a politelift of his hat. 

I explained that I did--for the moment. 

"Then you think of leaving, sir?"

"I do, " I said, "as soon as I can; I am only engaged for the time. "

"You do not happen to know, sir, if the duke requires a well-qualifiedindoor servant? I should be most grateful if you would present me to him. I heard in Paris that a servant had left him; but he started so suddenlythat I could not get access to him, and I have followed him here. "

"It's exactly what he does want, I believe, sir, " said I. "If I were you, I would go to the house and obtain entrance. The duke expects gueststo-morrow. "

"But yourself, sir? Are not your services sufficient for the present?"

"As you perceive, " said I, indicating my attire, "I am not an indoorservant. I am but a makeshift in that capacity. "

He smiled a polite remonstrance at my modesty, adding:

"You think, then, I might have a chance?"

"An excellent one, I believe. Turn to the left, there by the chestnuttree, and you will find yourself within a minute's walk of the frontdoor. "

He bowed, raised his hat, and trotted off, moving with a quick, shuffling, short-stepping gait. I lit another pipe and yawned. I hoped the duke wouldengage this newcomer and let me go about my business; and I fancied thathe would, for the fellow looked dapper, sharp, and handy. And the duchess?I was so disturbed to find myself disturbed at the thought of the duchessthat I exclaimed:

"By Jove, I'd better go! By Jove, I had!"

A wishing-cap, or rather a hoping-cap--for if a man who is no philosophermay have an opinion, we do not always wish and hope for the samething--could have done no more for me than the chance of Fate; for at themoment the duke's voice called "Sampson!" loudly from the house. I ran inobedience to his summons. He stood in the porch with the little strangerby him; and the stranger wore a deferential, but extremely well-satisfiedsmile. 

"Here, you, " said the duke to me, "you can make yourself scarce as soon asyou like. I've got a better servant, aye, and a sober one. There's tenfrancs for you. Now be off!"

I felt it incumbent on me to appear a little aggrieved:

"Am I to go to-night?" I asked. "Where can I get to to-night, my lord?"

"What's that to me? I dare say if you stand old Jean a franc, he'll giveyou a lift to the nearest inn. Tell him he may take a farm-horse. "

Really the duke was treating me with quite as much civility as I have seenmany of my friends extend to their servants. I had nothing to complain of. I bowed, and was about to turn away, when the duchess appeared in theporch. 

"What is it, Armand?" she asked. "You are sending Sampson away after all?"

"I could not deny your request, " said he in mockery. "Moreover, I havefound a better servant. "

The stranger almost swept the ground in obeisance before the lady of thehouse. 

"You are very changeable, " said the duchess. 

I saw vexation in her face. 

"My dearest, your sex cannot have a monopoly of change. I change a badservant--as you yourself think him--for a good one. Is that remarkable?"

The duchess said not another word, but turned into the house anddisappeared. The duke followed her. The stranger, with a bow to me, followed him. I was left alone. 

"Certainly I am not wanted, " said I to myself; and, having arrived at thisconclusion, I sought out old Jean. The old fellow was only too ready todrive me to Avranches or anywhere else for five francs, and was soon busyputting his horse in the shafts. I sought out Suzanne, got her to smugglemy luggage downstairs, gave her a parting present, took off my livery andput on the groom's old suit, and was ready to leave the house of M. DeSaint-Maclou. 

At nine o'clock my short servitude ended. As soon as a bend in the roadhid us from the house I opened my portmanteau, got out my own clothes, and, _sub æthere_, changed my raiment, putting on a quiet suit of blue, and presenting George Sampson's rather obtrusive garments (which I tookthe liberty of regarding as a perquisite) to Jean, who received themgladly. I felt at once a different being--so true it is that the tailormakes the man. 

"You are well out of that, " grunted old Jean. "If he'd discovered you, he'd have had you out and shot you!"

"He is a good shot?"

"_Mon Dieu_!" said Jean with an expressiveness which was a littledisquieting; for it was on the cards that the duke might still find meout. And I was not a practiced shot--not at my fellow-men, I mean. Suddenly I leaped up. 

"Good Heavens!" I cried. "I forgot! The duchess wanted me. Stop, stop!"

With a jerk Jean pulled up his horse, and gazed at me. 

"You can't go back like that, " he said, with a grin. "You'll have to puton these clothes again, " and he pointed to the discarded suit. 

"I very nearly forgot the duchess, " said I. To tell the truth, I was atfirst rather proud of my forgetfulness; it argued a complete triumph overthat unruly impulse at which I have hinted. But it also smote me withremorse. I leaped to the ground. 

"You must wait while I run back. "

"He will shoot you after all, " grinned Jean. 

"The devil take him!" said I, picturing the poor duchess utterlyforsaken--at the mercy of Delhasses, husband, and what not. 

I declare, as my deliberate opinion, that there is nothing more dangerousthan for a man almost to forget a lady who has shown him favor. If he canquite forget her--and will be so unromantic--why, let him, and perhapssmall harm done. But almost--That leaves him at the mercy of everygenerous self-reproach. He is ready to do anything to prove that she wasevery second in his memory. 

I began to retrace my steps toward the _château_. 

"I shall get the sack over this!" called Jean. 

"You shall come to no harm by that, if you do, " I assured him. 

But hardly had I--my virtuous pride now completely smothered by my tenderremorse--started on my ill-considered return journey, when, just as hadhappened to Gustave de Berensac and myself the evening before, a slimfigure ran down from the bank by the roadside. It was the duchess. Theshort cut had served her. She was hardly out of breath this time; and sheappeared composed and in good spirits. 

"I thought for a moment you'd forgotten me, but I knew you wouldn't dothat, Mr. Aycon. "

Could I resist such trust?

"Forget you, madame?" I cried. "I would as soon forget--"

"So I knew you'd wait for me. "

"Here I am, waiting faithfully, " said I. 

"That's right, " said the duchess. "Take this, please, Mr. Aycon. "

"This" was a small handbag. She gave it to me, and began to walk towardthe cart, where Jean was placidly smoking a long black cheroot. 

"You wished to speak to me?" I suggested, as I walked by her. 

"I can do it, " said the duchess, reaching the cart, "as we go along. "

Even Jean took his cheroot from his lips. I jumped back two paces. 

"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed, "As we go along, did you say?"

"It will be better, " said the duchess, getting into the cart (unassistedby me, I am sorry to say). "Because he may find out I'm gone, and comeafter us, you know. "

Nothing seemed more likely; I was bound to admit that. 

"Get in, Mr. Aycon, " continued the duchess. And then she suddenly began totalk English. "I told him I shouldn't stay in the house if Mlle. Delhassecame. He didn't believe me; well, he'll see now. I couldn't stay, could I?Why don't you get in?"

Half dazed, I got in. I offered no opinion on the question of Mlle. Delhasse: to begin with, I knew very little about it; in the second placethere seemed to me to be a more pressing question. 

"Quick, Jean!" said the duchess. 

And we lumbered on at a trot, Jean twisting his cheroot round and round, and grunting now and again. The old man's face said, plain as words. 

"Yes, I shall get the sack; and you'll be shot!"

I found my tongue. 

"Was this what you wanted me for?" I asked. 

"Of course, " said the duchess, speaking French again. 

"But you can't come with me!" I cried in unfeigned horror. 

The duchess looked up; she fixed her eyes on me for a moment; her eyesgrew round, her brows lifted. Then her lips curved: she blushed very red;and she burst into the merriest fit of laughter. 

"Oh, dear!" laughed the duchess. "Oh, what fun, Mr. Aycon!"

"It seems to me rather a serious matter, " I ventured to observe. "Leavingout all question of--of what's correct, you know" (I became veryapologetic at this point), "it's just a little risky, isn't it?"

Jean evidently thought so; he nodded solemnly over his cheroot. 

The duchess still laughed; indeed, she was wiping her eyes with herhandkerchief. 

"What an opinion to have of me!" she gasped at last. "I'm not coming withyou, Mr. Aycon. "

I dare say my face showed relief: I don't know that I need be ashamed ofthat. My change of expression, however, set the duchess a-laughing again. 

"I never saw a man look so glad, " said she gayly. Yet somewhere, lurkingin the recesses of her tone--or was it of her eyes?--there was a littlereproach, a little challenge. And suddenly I felt less glad: a change offeeling which I do not seek to defend. 

"Then where are you going?" I asked in much curiosity. 

"I am going, " said the duchess, assuming in a moment a most serious air, "into religious retirement for a few days. "

"Religious retirement?" I echoed in surprise. 

"Are you thinking it's not my _métier_?" she asked, her eyes gleamingagain. 

"But where?" I cried. 

"Why, there, to be sure. " And she pointed to where the square whiteconvent stood on the edge of the bay, under the hill of Avranches. "There, at the convent. The Mother Superior is my friend, and will protect me. "

The duchess spoke as though the guillotine were being prepared for her. Isat silent. The situation was becoming rather too complicated for myunderstanding. Unfortunately, however, it was to become more complicatedstill; for the duchess, turning to the English tongue again, laid a handon my arm and said in her most coaxing tones:

"And you, my dear Mr. Aycon, are going to stay a few days in Avranches. "

"Not an hour!" would have expressed the resolve of my intellect. But weare not all intellect; and what I actually said was:

"What for?"

"In case, " said the duchess, "I want you, Mr. Aycon. "

"I will stay, " said I, nodding, "just a few days at Avranches. "

We were within half a mile of that town. The convent gleamed white in themoonlight about three hundred yards to the left. The duchess took herlittle bag, jumped lightly down, kissed her hand to me, and walked off. 

Jean had made no comment at all--the duchess' household was hard tosurprise. I could make none. And we drove in silence into Avranches. 

When there before with Gustave, I had put up at a small inn at the foot ofthe hill. Now I drove up to the summit and stopped before the principalhotel. A waiter ran out, cast a curious glance at my conveyance, andlifted my luggage down. 

"Let me know if you get into any trouble for being late, " said I to Jean, giving him another five francs. 

He nodded and drove off, still chewing the stump of his cheroot. 

"Can I have a room?" I asked, turning to the waiter. 

"Certainly, sir, " said he, catching up my bag in his hand. 

"I am just come, " said I, "from Mont St. Michel. "

A curious expression spread over the waiter's face. I fancy he knew oldJean and the cart by sight; but he spread out his hands and smiled. 

"Monsieur, " said he with the incomparable courtesy of the French nation, "has come from wherever monsieur pleases. "

"That, " said I, giving him a trifle, "is an excellent understanding. "

Then I walked into the _salle-à-manger_, and almost into the arms of anextraordinarily handsome girl who was standing just inside the door. 

"This is really an eventful day, " I thought to myself. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Hint of Something Serious. 

Occurrences such as this induce in a man of imagination a sense of suddenshy intimacy. The physical encounter seems to typify and foreshadow someintermingling of destiny. This occurs with peculiar force when the lady isas beautiful as was the girl I saw before me. 

"I beg your pardon, madame, " said I, with a whirl of my hat. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said the lady, with an inclination of her head. 

"One is so careless in entering rooms hurriedly, " I observed. 

"Oh, but it is stupid to stand just by the door!" insisted the lady. 

Conscious that she was scanning my appearance, I could but return thecompliment. She was very tall, almost as tall as I was myself; you wouldchoose to call her stately, rather than slender. She was very fair, withlarge lazy blue eyes and a lazy smile to match. In all respects she wasthe greatest contrast to the Duchess of Saint-Maclou. 

"You were about to pass out?" said I, holding the door. 

She bowed; but at the moment another lady--elderly, rather stout, and, tospeak it plainly, of homely and unattractive aspect--whom I had nothitherto perceived, called from a table at the other end of the room whereshe was sitting:

"We ought to start early to-morrow. "

The younger lady turned her head slowly toward the speaker. 

"My dear mother, " said she, "I never start early. Besides, this town isinteresting--the landlord says so. "

"But he wishes us to arrive for _déjeuner_. "

"We will take it here. Perhaps we will drive over in theafternoon--perhaps the next day. "

And the young lady gazed at her mother with an air of indifference--orrather it seemed to me strangely like one of aversion and defiance. 

"My dear!" cried the elder in consternation. "My dearest Marie!"

"It is just as I thought, " said I to myself complacently. 

Marie Delhasse--for beyond doubt it was she--walked slowly across the roomand sat down by her mother. I took a table nearer the door; the waiterappeared, and I ordered a light supper. Marie poured out a glass of winefrom a bottle on the table; apparently they had been supping. They beganto converse together in low tones. My repast arriving, I fell to. A fewmoments later, I heard Marie say, in her composed indolent tones:

"I'm not sure I shall go at all. _Entre nous_, he bores me. "

I stole a glance at Mme. Delhasse. Consternation was writ large on herface, and suspicion besides. She gave her daughter a quick sidelongglance, and a frown gathered on her brow. So far as I heard, however, sheattempted no remonstrance. She rose, wrapping a shawl round her, and madefor the door. I sprang up and opened it; she walked out. Marie drew achair to the fire and sat down with her back to me, toasting her feet--forthe summer night had turned chilly. I finished my supper. The clock struckhalf-past eleven. I stifled a yawn; one smoke and then to the bed was myprogramme. 

Marie Delhasse turned her head half-round. 

"You must not, " said she, "let me prevent you having your cigarette. Ishould set you at ease by going to bed, but I can't sleep so early, andupstairs the fire is not lighted. "

I thanked her and approached the fire. She was gazing into itmeditatively. Presently she looked up. 

"Smoke, sir, " she said imperiously but languidly. 

I obeyed her, and stood looking down at her, admiring her stately beauty. 

"You have passed the day here?" she asked, gazing again into the fire. 

"In this neighborhood, " said I, with discreet vagueness. 

"You have been able to pass the time?"

"Oh, certainly!" That had not been my difficulty. 

"There is, of course, " she said wearily, "Mont St. Michel. But can youimagine anyone living in such a country?"

"Unless Fate set one here--" I began. 

"I suppose that's it, " she interrupted. 

"You are going to make a stay here?"

"I am, " she answered slowly, "on my way to--I don't know where. "

I was scrutinizing her closely now, for her manner seemed to witness morethan indolence; irresolution, vacillation, discomfort, asserted theirpresence. I could not make her out, but her languid indifference appearedmore assumed than real. 

With another upward glance, she said:

"My name is Marie Delhasse. "

"It is a well-known name, " said I with a bow. 

"You have heard of me?"

"Yes. "

"What?" she asked quickly, wheeling half-round and facing me. 

"That you are a great singer, " I answered simply. 

"Ah, I'm not all voice! What about me? A woman is more than an organ pipe. What about me?"

Her excitement contrasted with the langour she had displayed before. 

"Nothing, " said I, wondering that she should ask a stranger such aquestion. She glanced at me for an instant. I threw my eyes up to theceiling. 

"It is false!" she said quietly; but the trembling of her hands belied hercomposure. 

The tawdry gilt clock on the mantelpiece by me ticked through a longsilence. The last act of the day's comedy seemed set for a more seriousscene. 

"Why do you ask a stranger a question like that?" I said at last, givingutterance to the thought that puzzled me. 

"Whom should I ask? And I like your face--no, not because it is handsome. You are English, sir?"

"Yes, I am English. My name is Gilbert Aycon. "

"Aycon--Aycon! It is a little difficult to say it as you say it. "

Her thoughts claimed her again. I threw my cigarette into the fire, andstood waiting her pleasure. But she seemed to have no more to say, for sherose from the seat and held out her hand to me. 

"Will you 'shake hands?'" she said, the last two words in English; and shesmiled again. 

I hastened to do as she asked me, and she moved toward the door. 

"Perhaps, " she said, "I shall see you to-morrow morning. "

"I shall be here. " Then I added: "I could not help hearing you talk ofmoving elsewhere. "

She stood still in the middle of the room; she opened her lips to speak, shut them again, and ended by saying nothing more than:

"Yes, we talked of it. My mother wishes it. Good-night, Mr. Aycon. "

I bade her good-night, and she passed slowly through the door, which Iclosed behind her. I turned again to the fire, saying:

"What would the duchess think of that?"

I did not even know what I thought of it myself; of one thing only I feltsure---that what I had heard of Marie Delhasse was not all that there wasto learn about her. 

I was lodged in a large room on the third floor, and when I awoke thebright sun beamed on the convent where, as I presume, Mme. De Saint-Macloulay, and on the great Mount beyond it in the distance. I have never risenwith a more lively sense of unknown possibilities in the day before me. These two women who had suddenly crossed my path, and their relations tothe pale puffy-cheeked man at the little _château_, might well produceresults more startling than had seemed to be offered even by such a freakas the original expedition undertaken by Gustave de Berensac and me. Andnow Gustave had fallen away and I was left to face the thing alone. Forface it I must. My promise to the duchess bound me: had it not I doubtwhether I should have gone; for my interest was not only in the duchess. 

I had my coffee upstairs, and then, putting on my hat, went down for astroll. So long as the duke did not come to Avranches, I could show myface boldly--and was not he busy preparing for his guests? I crossed thethreshold of the hotel. 

Just at the entrance stood Marie Delhasse; opposite her was a thicksetfellow, neatly dressed and wearing mutton-chop whiskers. As I came out Iraised my hat. The man appeared not to notice me, though his eyes fell onme for a moment. I passed quickly by--in fact, as quickly as I could--forit struck me at once that this man must be Lafleur, and I did not want himto give the duke a description of the unknown gentleman who was staying atAvranches. Yet, as I went, I had time to hear Marie's slow musical voicesay:

"I'm not coming at all to-day. "

I was very glad of it, and pursued my round of the town with a lighterheart. Presently, after half an hour's walk, I found myself opposite thechurch, and thus nearly back at the hotel: and in front of the churchstood Marie Delhasse, looking at _the façade_. 

Raising my hat I went up to her, her friendliness of the evening beforeencouraging me. 

"I hope you are going to stay to-day?" said I. 

"I don't know. " Then she smiled, but not mirthfully. "I expect to be verymuch pressed to go this afternoon, " she said. 

I made a shot--apparently at a venture. 

"Someone will come and carry you off?" I asked jestingly. 

"It's very likely. My presence here will be known. "

"But need you go?"

She looked on the ground and made no answer. 

"Perhaps though, " I continued, "he--or she--will not come. He may be toomuch occupied. "

"To come for me?" she said, with the first touch of coquetry which I hadseen in her lighting up her eyes. 

"Even for that, it is possible, " I rejoined. 

We began to walk together toward the edge of the open _place_ in front ofthe church. The convent came in sight as we reached the fall of the hill. 

"How peaceful that looks!" she said; "I wonder if it would be pleasantthere!"

I was myself just wondering how the Duchess of Saint-Maclou found it, whena loud cry of warning startled us. We had been standing on the edge of theroad, and a horse, going at a quick trot, was within five yards of us. Asit reached us, it was sharply reined in. To my amazement, old Jean, theduchess' servant, sat upon it. When he saw me, a smile spread over hisweather-beaten face. 

"I was nearly over you, " said he. "You had no ears. "

And I am sorry to say that Jean winked, insinuating that Marie Delhasseand I had been preoccupied. 

The diplomacy of non-recognition had failed to strike Jean. I made thebest of a bad job, and asked:

"What brings you here?"

Marie stood a few paces off, regarding us. 

"I'm looking for Mme. La Duchesse, " grinned Jean. 

Marie Delhasse took a step forward when she heard his reference to theduchess. 

"Her absence was discovered by Suzanne at six o'clock this morning, " theold fellow went on. "And the duke--ah, take care how you come near him, sir! Oh, it's a kettle of fish! For as I came I met that coxcomb Lafleurriding back with a message from the duke's guests that they would not cometo-day! So the duchess is gone, and the ladies are not come; and theduke--he has nothing to do but curse that whippersnapper of a Pierre whocame last night. "

And Jean ended in a rapturous hoarse chuckle. 

"You were riding so fast, then, because you were after the duchess?" Isuggested. 

"I rode fast for fear, " said Jean, with a shrewd smile, "that I shouldstop somewhere on the road. Well, I have looked in Avranches. She is notin Avranches. I'll go home again. "

Marie Delhasse came close to my side. 

"Ask him, " she said to me, "if he speaks of the Duchess of Saint-Maclou. "

I put the question as I was directed. 

"You couldn't have guessed better if you'd known, " said Jean; and a swiftglance from Marie Delhasse told me that her suspicion as to my knowledgewas aroused. 

"And what will happen, Jean?" said I. 

"The good God knows, " shrugged Jean. Then, remembering perhaps myfive-franc pieces, he said politely, "I hope you are well, sir?"

"Up to now, thank you, Jean, " said I. 

His glance traveled to Marie. I saw his shriveled lips curl; hisexpression was ominous of an unfortunate remark. 

"Good-by!" said I significantly. 

Jean had some wits. He spared me the remark, but not the sly leer that hadbeen made to accompany it. He clapped his heels to his horse's side andtrotted off in the direction from which he had come. So that he couldswear he had been to Avranches, he was satisfied!

Marie Delhasse turned to me, asking haughtily:

"What is the meaning of this? What do you know of the Duke or Duchess ofSaint-Maclou?"

"I might return your question, " said I, looking her in the face. 

"Will you answer it?" she said, flushing red. 

"No, Mlle. Delhasse, I will not, " said I. 

"What is the meaning of this 'absence' of the Duchess of Saint-Maclouwhich that man talks about so meaningly?"

Then I said, speaking low and slow:

"Who are the friends whom you are on your way to visit?"

"Who are you?" she cried. "What do you know about it? What concern is itof yours?"

There was no indolence or lack of animation in her manner now. Shequestioned me with imperious indignation. 

"I will answer not a single word, " said I. "But--you asked me last nightwhat I had heard of you. "

"Well?" she said, and shut her lips tightly on the word. 

I held my peace; and in a moment she went on passionately:

"Who would have guessed that you would insult me? Is it your habit toinsult women?"

"Not mine only, it seems, " said I, meeting her glance boldly. 

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Had you, then, an invitation from Mme. De Saint-Maclou?"

She drew back as if I had struck her. And I felt as though I had struckher. She looked at me for a moment with parted lips; then, without a wordor a sign, she turned and walked slowly away in the direction of thehotel. 

And I, glad to have something else to occupy my thoughts, started at abrisk pace along the foot-path that runs down the hill and meets the roadwhich would lead me to the convent, for I had a thing or two to say to theduchess. And yet it was not of the duchess only that I thought as I went. There were also in my mind the indignant pride with which Marie Delhassehad questioned me, and the shrinking shame in her eyes at thatcounter-question of mine. The Duke of Saint-Maclou's invitation seemed tobring as much disquiet to one of his guests as it had to his wife herself. But one thing struck me, and I found a sort of comfort in it: she hadthought, it seemed, that the duchess was to be at home. 

"Pah!" I cried suddenly to myself. "If she weren't pretty, you'd say thatmade it worse!"

And I went on in a bad temper. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Heard through the Door. 

Twenty minutes' walking brought me to the wood which lay between the roadand the convent. I pressed on; soon the wood ceased and I found myself onthe outskirts of a paddock of rough grass, where a couple of cows and halfa dozen goats were pasturing; a row of stunted apple trees ran along oneside of the paddock, and opposite me rose the white walls of the convent;while on my left was the burying-ground with its arched gateway, inscribed"_Mors janua vitæ_. " I crossed the grass and rang a bell, that clangedagain and again in echo. Nobody came. I pulled a second time and moreviolently. After some further delay the door was cautiously opened alittle way, and a young woman looked out. She was a round-faced, red-cheeked, fresh creature, arrayed in a large close-fitting white cap, abig white collar over her shoulders, and a black gown. When she saw me, she uttered an exclamation of alarm, and pushed the door to again. Just intime I inserted my foot between door and doorpost. 

"I beg your pardon, " said I politely, "but you evidently misunderstand me. I wish to enter. "

She peered at me through the two-inch gap my timely foot had preserved. 

"But it is impossible, " she objected. "Our rules do not allow it. Indeed, I may not talk to you. I beg of you to move your foot. "

"But then you would shut the door. "

She could not deny it. 

"I mean no harm, " I protested. 

"'The guile of the wicked is infinite, '" remarked the little nun. 

"I want to see the Mother Superior, " said I. "Will you take my name toher?"

I heard another step in the passage. The door was flung wide open, and astout and stately old lady faced me, a frown on her brow. 

"Madame, " said I, "until you hear my errand you will think me anill-mannered fellow. "

"What is your business, sir?"

"It is for your ear alone, madame. "

"You can't come in here, " said she decisively. 

For a moment I was at a loss. Then the simplest solution in the worldoccurred to me. 

"But you can come out, madame, " I suggested. 

She looked at me doubtfully for a minute. Then she stepped out, shuttingthe door carefully behind her. I caught a glimpse of the little nun'sface, and thought there was a look of disappointment on it. The old ladyand I began to walk along the path that led to the burying-ground. 

"I do not know, " said I, "whether you have heard of me. My name is Aycon. "

"I thought so. Mr. Aycon, I must tell you that you are very much to blame. You have led this innocent, though thoughtless, child into most deplorableconduct. "

("Well done, little duchess!" said I to myself; but of course I was notgoing to betray her. )

"I deeply regret my thoughtlessness, " said I earnestly. "I would, however, observe that the present position of the duchess is not due to my--shallwe say misconduct?--but to that of her husband. I did not invite--"

"Don't mention her name!" interrupted the Mother Superior in horror. 

We had reached the arched gateway; and there appeared standing within it afigure most charmingly inappropriate to a graveyard--the duchess herself, looking as fresh as a daisy, and as happy as a child with a new toy. Sheran to me, holding out both hands and crying:

"Ah, my dear, dear Mr. Aycon, you are the most delightful man alive! Youcome at the very moment I want you. "

"Be sober, my child, be sober!" murmured the old lady. 

"But I want to hear, " expostulated the duchess. "Do you know anything, Mr. Aycon? What has been happening up at the house? What has the duke done?"

As the duchess poured out her questions, we passed through the gate; theladies sat down on a stone bench just inside, and I, standing, told mystory. The duchess was amused to hear of old Jean's chase of her; but sheshowed no astonishment till I told her that Marie Delhasse was at thehotel in Avranches, and had declined to go further on her journey to-day. 

"At the hotel? Then you've seen her?" she burst out. "What is she like?"

"She is most extremely handsome, " said I. "Moreover, I am inclined to likeher. "

The Mother Superior opened her lips--to reprove me, no doubt; but theduchess was too quick. 

"Oh, you like her? Perhaps you're going to desert me and go over to her?"she cried in indignation, that was, I think, for the most part feigned. Certainly the duchess did not look very alarmed. But in regard to what shesaid, the old lady was bound to have a word. 

"What is Mr. Aycon to you, my child?" said she solemnly. "He isnothing--nothing at all to you, my child. "

"Well, I want him to be less than nothing to Mlle. Delhasse, " said theduchess, with a pout for her protector and a glance for me. 

"Mlle. Delhasse is very angry with me just now, " said I. 

"Oh, why?" asked the duchess eagerly. 

"Because she gathered that I thought she ought to wait for an invitationfrom you, before she went to your house. "

"She should wait till the Day of Judgment!" cried the duchess. 

"That would not matter, " observed the Mother Superior dryly. 

Suddenly, without pretext or excuse, the duchess turned and walked veryquickly--nay, she almost ran--away along the path that encircled the groupof graves. Her eye had bidden me, and I followed no less briskly. I hearda despairing sigh from the poor old lady, but she had no chance ofovertaking us. The audacious movement was successful. 

"Now we can talk, " said the duchess. 

And talk she did, for she threw at me the startling assertion:

"I believe you're falling in love with Mlle. Delhasse. If you do, I'llnever speak to you again!"

"If I do, " said I, "I shall probably accept that among the otherdisadvantages of the entanglement. "

"That's very rude, " observed the duchess. 

"Nothing with an 'if' in it is rude, " said I speciously. 

"Men must be always in love with somebody, " said she resentfully. 

"It certainly approaches a necessity, " I assented. 

The duchess glanced at me. Perhaps I had glanced at her; I hope not. 

"Oh, well, " said she, "hadn't we better talk business?"

"Infinitely better, " said I; and I meant it. 

"What am I to do?" she asked, with a return to her more friendly manner. 

"Nothing, " said I. 

It is generally the safest advice--to women at all events. 

"You are content with the position? You like being at the hotel perhaps?"

"Should I not be hard to please, if I didn't?"

"I know you are trying to annoy me, but you shan't. Mr. Aycon, suppose myhusband comes over to Avranches, and sees you?"

"I have thought of that. "

"Well, what have you decided?"

"Not to think about it till it happens. But won't he be thinking moreabout you than me?"

"He won't do anything about me, " she said. "In the first place, he willwant no scandal. In the second, he does not want me. But he will come overto see her. "

"Her" was, of course, Marie Delhasse. The duchess assigned to her thesinister distinction of the simple pronoun. 

"Surely he will take means to get you to go back?" I exclaimed. 

"If he could have caught me before I got here, he would have been glad. Now he will wait; for if he came here and claimed me, what he proposed todo would become known. "

There seemed reason in this; the duchess calculated shrewdly. 

"In fact, " said I, "I had better go back to the hotel. "

"That does not seem to vex you much. "

"Well, I can't stay here, can I?" said I, looking round at the nunnery. "It would be irregular, you know. "

"You might go to another hotel, " suggested she. 

"It is most important that I should watch what is going on at my presenthotel, " said I gravely; for I did not wish to move. 

"You are the most--" began the duchess. 

But this bit of character-reading was lost. Slow but sure, the MotherSuperior was at our elbows. 

"Adieu, Mr. Aycon, " said she. 

I felt sure that she must manage the nuns admirably. 

"Adieu!" said I, as though there was nothing else to be said. 

"Adieu!" said the duchess, as though she would have liked to say somethingelse. 

And all in a moment I was through the gateway and crossing the paddock. But the duchess ran to the gate, crying:

"Mind you come again to-morrow!"

My expedition consumed nearly two hours; and one o'clock struck from thetower of the church as I slowly climbed the hill, feeling (I must admitit) that the rest of the day would probably be rather dull. Just as Ireached the top, however, I came plump on Mlle. Delhasse, who appeared tobe taking a walk. She bowed to me slightly and coldly. Glad that she wasso distant (for I did not like her looks), I returned her salute, andpursued my way to the hotel. In the porch of it stood the waiter--myfriend who had taken such an obliging view of my movements the nightbefore. Directly he saw me, he came out into the road to meet me. 

"Are you acquainted with the ladies who have rooms on the first floor?" heasked with an air of mystery. 

"I met them here for the first time, " said I. 

I believe he doubted me; perhaps waiters are bred to suspicion by thethings they see. 

"Ah!" said he, "then it does not interest you to know that a gentleman hasbeen to see the young lady?"

I took out ten francs. 

"Yes, it does, " said I, handing him the money. "Who was it?"

"The Duke of Saint-Maclou, " he whispered mysteriously. 

"Is he gone?" I asked in some alarm. I had no wish to encounter him. 

"This half-hour, sir. "

"Did he see both the ladies?"

"No; only the young lady. Madame went out immediately on his arrival, andis not yet returned. "

"And mademoiselle?"

"She is in her room. "

Thinking I had not got much, save good will, for my ten francs--for hetold me nothing but what I had expected to hear--I was about to pass on, when he added, in a tone which seemed more significant than the questiondemanded:

"Are you going up to your room, sir?"

"I am, " said I. 

"Permit me to show you the way, " he said--though his escort seemed to mevery unnecessary. 

He mounted before me. We reached the first floor. Opposite to us, notthree yards away, was the door of the sitting-room which I knew to beoccupied by the Delhasses. 

"Go on, " said I. 

"In a moment, sir, " he said. 

Then he held up his hand in the attitude of a man who listens. 

"One should not listen, " he whispered, apologetically; "but it is sostrange. I thought that if you knew the lady--Hark!"

I knew that we ought not to listen. But the mystery of the fellow's mannerand the concern of his air constrained me, and I too paused, listening. 

From behind the door there came to our strained attentive ears the soundof a woman sobbing. I sought the waiter's eyes; they were already bent onme. Again the sad sounds came--low, swift, and convulsive. It went to myheart to hear them. I did not know what to do. To go on upstairs to my ownroom and mind my own business seemed the simple thing--simple, easy, andproper. But my feet were glued to the boards. I could not go, with thatsound beating on my ears: I should hear it all the day. I glanced again atthe waiter. He was a kind-looking fellow, and I saw the tears standing inhis eyes. 

"And mademoiselle is so beautiful!" he whispered. 

"What the devil business is it of yours?" said I, in a low but fiercetone. 

"None, " said he. "I am content to leave it to you, sir;" and without morehe turned and went downstairs. 

It was all very well to leave it to me; but what--failing that simple, easy, proper, and impossible course of action which I have indicated--wasI to do?

Well, what I did was this: I went to the door of the room and knockedsoftly. There was no answer. The sobs continued. I had been a brute tothis girl in the morning; I thought of that as I stood outside. 

"My God! what's the matter with her?" I whispered. 

And then I opened the door softly. 

Marie Delhasse sat in a chair, her head resting in her hands and her handson the table; and her body was shaken with her weeping. 

And on the table, hard by her bowed golden head, there lay a squareleathern box. I stood on the threshold and looked at her. 

The rest of the day did not now seem likely to be dull; but it might proveto have in store for me more difficult tasks than the enduring of a littledullness. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

I Find that I Care. 

For a moment I stood stock still, wishing to Heaven that I had not openedthe door; for I could find now no excuse for my intrusion, and no reasonwhy I should not have minded my own business. The impulse that had madethe thing done was exhausted in the doing of it. Retreat became my soleobject; and, drawing back, I pulled the door after me. But I had givenFortune a handle--very literally; for the handle of the door grated loudas I turned it. Despairing of escape, I stood still. Marie Delhasse lookedup with a start. 

"Who's there?" she cried in frightened tones, hastily pressing herhandkerchief to her eyes. 

There was no help for it. I stepped inside, saying:

"I'm ashamed to say that I am. "

I deserved and expected an outburst of indignation. My surprise was greatwhen she sank against the back of the chair with a sigh of relief. Ilingered awkwardly just inside the threshold. 

"What do you want? Why did you come in?" she asked, but rather inbewilderment than anger. 

"I was passing on my way upstairs, and--and you seemed to be in distress. "

"Did I make such a noise as that?" said she. "I'm as bad as a child; butchildren cry because they mustn't do things, and I because I must. "

We appeared to be going to talk. I shut the door. 

"My intrusion is most impertinent, " said I. "You have every right toresent it. "

"Oh, have I the right to resent anything? Did you think so this morning?"she asked impetuously. 

"The morning, " I observed, "is a terribly righteous time with me. I mustbeg your pardon for what I said. "

"You think the same still?" she retorted quickly. 

"That is no excuse for having said it, " I returned. "It was not myaffair. "

"It is nobody's affair, I suppose, but mine. "

"Unless you allow it to be, " said I. I could not endure the desolation herwords and tone implied. 

She looked at me curiously. 

"I don't understand, " she said in a fretfully weary tone, "how you come tobe mixed up in it at all. "

"It's a long story. " Then I went on abruptly: "You thought it was someoneelse that had entered. "

"Well, if I did?"

"Someone returning, " said I stepping up to the table opposite her. 

"What then?" she asked, but wearily and not in the defiant manner of themorning. 

"Mme. Delhasse perhaps, or perhaps the Duke of Saint-Maclou?"

Marie Delhasse made no answer. She sat with her elbows on the table, andher chin resting on the support of her clenched hands; her lids droopedover her eyes; and I could not see the expression of her glance, whichwas, nevertheless, upon me. 

"Well, well, " I continued, "we needn't talk about him. Have you been doingsome shopping?" And I pointed to the red leathern box. 

For full half a minute she sat, without speech or movement. Then she saidin answer to my question, which she could not take as an idle one:

"Yes, I have been doing some bargaining. "

"Is that the result?"

Again she paused long before she answered. 

"That, " said she, "is a trifle--thrown in. "

"To bind the bargain?" I suggested. 

"Yes, Mr. Aycon--to bind the bargain. "

"Is it allowed to look?"

"I think everything must be allowed to you. You would be so surprised ifit were not. "

I understood that she was aiming a satirical remark at me: I did not mindthat; she had better flay me alive than sit and cry. 

"Then I may open the box?"

"The key is in it. "

I drew the box across, and I took a chair that stood by. I turned the keyof the box. A glance showed me Marie's drooped lids half raised and hereyes fixed on my face. 

I opened the box: there lay in it, in sparkling coil on the blue velvet, amagnificent diamond necklace; one great stone formed a pendent, and it wason this stone that I fixed my regard. I took it up and looked at itclosely; then I examined the necklace itself. Marie's eyes followed myevery motion. 

"You like these trinkets?" I asked. 

"Yes, " said she, in that tone in which "yes" is stronger than a thousandwords of rapture; and the depths of her eyes caught fire from the stones, and gleamed. 

"But you know nothing about them, " I pursued composedly. 

"I suppose they are valuable, " said she, making an effort after_nonchalance_. 

"They have some value, " I conceded, smiling. "But I mean about theirhistory. "

"They are bought, I suppose--bought and sold. "

"I happen to know just a little about such things. In fact, I have a bookat home in which there is a picture of this necklace. It is known as theCardinal's Necklace. The stones were collected by Cardinal Armand deSaint-Maclou, Archbishop of Caen, some thirty years ago. They were set byLebeau of Paris, on the order of the cardinal, and were left by him to hisnephew, our friend the duke. Since his marriage, the duchess has of courseworn them. "

All this I said in a most matter-of-fact tone. 

"Do you mean that they belong to her?" asked Marie, with a sudden lift ofher eyes. 

"I don't know. Strictly, I should think not, " said I impassively. 

Marie Delhasse stretched out her hand and began to finger the stones. 

"She wore them, did she?"

"Certainly. "

"Ah! I supposed they had just been bought. " And she took her fingers offthem. 

"It would take a large sum to do that--to buy them _en bloc_, " I observed. 

"How much?"

"Oh, I don't know! The market varies so much: perhaps a million francs, perhaps more. You can't tell how much people will give for such things. "

"No, it is difficult, " she assented, again fingering the necklace, "to saywhat people will give for them. "

I leaned back in my chair. There was a pause. Then her eyes suddenly metmine again, and she exclaimed defiantly:

"Oh, you know very well what it means! What's the good of fencing aboutit?"

"Yes, I know what it means, " said I. "When have you promised to go?"

"To-morrow, " she answered. 

"Because of this thing?" and I pointed to the necklace. 

"Because of--How dare you ask me such questions!"

I rose from my seat and bowed. 

"You are going?" she asked, her fingers on the necklace, and her eyesavoiding mine. 

"I have the honor, " said I, "to enjoy the friendship of the Duchess ofSaint-Maclou. "

"And that forbids you to enjoy mine?"

I bowed assent to her inference. She sat still at the table, her chin onher hands. I was about to leave her, when it struck me all in a momentthat leaving her was not exactly the best thing to do, although it mightbe much the easiest. I arrested my steps. 

"Well, " she asked, "is not our acquaintance ended?"

And she suddenly opened her hands and hid her face in them. It was astrange conclusion to a speech so coldly and distantly begun. 

"For God's sake, don't go!" said I, bending a little across the tabletoward her. 

"What's it to you? What's it to anybody?" came from between her fingers. 

"Your mother--" I began. 

She dropped her hands from her face, and laughed. It was a laugh the likeof which I hope not to hear again. Then she broke out:

"Why wouldn't she have me in the house? Why did she run away? Am I unfitto touch her?"

"If she were wrong, you're doing your best to make her right. "

"If everybody thinks one wicked, one may as well be wicked, and--and livein peace. "

"And get diamonds?" I added, "Weren't you wicked?"

"No, " she said, looking me straight in the face. "But what difference didthat make?"

"None at all, in one point of view, " said I. But to myself I was swearingthat she should not go. 

Then she said in a very low tone:

"He never leaves me. Ah! he makes everyone think--"

"Let 'em think, " said I. 

"If everyone thinks it--"

"Oh, come, nonsense!" said I. 

"You know what you thought. What honest woman would have anything to dowith me--or what honest man either?"

I had nothing to say about that; so I said again. 

"Well, don't go, anyhow. "

She spoke in lower tones, as she answered this appeal of mine:

"I daren't refuse. He'll be here again; and my mother--"

"Put it off a day or two, " said I. "And don't take that thing. "

She looked at me, it seemed to me, in astonishment. 

"Do you really care?" she asked, speaking very low. 

I nodded. I did care, somehow. 

"Enough to stand by me, if I don't go?"

I nodded again. 

"I daren't refuse right out. My mother and he--"

She broke off. 

"Have something the matter with you: flutters or something, " I suggested. 

The ghost of a smile appeared on her face. 

"You'll stay?" she asked. 

I had to stay, anyhow. Perhaps I ought to have said so, and not stolencredit; but all I did was to nod again. 

"And, if I ask you, you'll--you'll stand between me and him?"

I hoped that my meeting with the duke would not be in a strong light; butI only said:

"Rather! I'll do anything I can, of course. "

She did not thank me; she looked at me again. Then she observed. 

"My mother will be back soon. "

"And I had better not be here?"

"No. "

I advanced to the table again, and laid my hand on the box containing theCardinal's necklace. 

"And this?" I asked in a careless tone. 

"Ought I to send them back?"

"You don't want to?"

"What's the use of saying I do? I love them. Besides, he'll see throughit. He'll know that I mean I won't come. I daren't--I daren't show himthat!"

Then I made a little venture; for, fingering the box idly, I said:

"It would be uncommonly handsome of you to give 'em to the duchess. "

"To the duchess?" she gasped in wondering tones. 

"You see, " I remarked, "either they are the duchess', in which case sheought to have them; or, if they were the duke's, they're yours now; andyou can do what you like with them. "

"He gave them me on--on a condition. "

"A condition, " said I, "no gentleman could mention, and no law enforce. "

She blushed scarlet, but sat silent. 

"Revenge is sweet, " said I. "She ran away rather than meet you. You sendher her diamonds!"

A sudden gleam shot into Marie Delhasse's eyes. 

"Yes, " she said, "yes. " And stopped, thinking, with her hands clasped. 

"You send them by me, " I pursued, delighted with the impression which mysuggestion had made upon her. 

"By you? You see her, then?" she asked quickly. 

"Occasionally, " I answered. The duchess' secret was not mine, and I didnot say where I saw her. 

"I'll give them to you, " said Marie--"to you, not to the duchess. "

"I won't have 'em at any price, " said I. "Come, your mother will be backsoon. I believe you want to keep 'em. " And I assumed a disgusted air. 

"I don't!" she flashed out passionately. "I don't want to touch them! Iwouldn't keep them for the world!"

I looked at my watch. With a swift motion, Marie Delhasse leaped from herchair, dashed down the lid of the box, hiding the glitter of the stones, seized the box in her two hands and with eyes averted held it out to me. 

"For the duchess?" I asked. 

"Yes, for the duchess, " said Marie, with, averted eyes. 

I took the box, and stowed it in the capacious pocket of theshooting-jacket which I was wearing. 

"Go!" said Marie, pointing to the door. 

I held out my hand. She caught it in hers. Upon my word, I thought she wasgoing to kiss it. So strongly did I think it that, hating fuss of thatsort, I made a half-motion to pull it away. However, I was wrong. Shemerely pressed it and let it drop. 

"Cheer up! cheer up! I'll turn up again soon, " said I, and I left theroom. 

And left in the nick of time; for at the very moment when I, hugging thelump in my coat which marked the position of the Cardinal's Necklace, reached the foot of the stairs Mme. Delhasse appeared on her way up. 

"Oh, you old viper!" I murmured thoughtlessly, in English. 

"Pardon, monsieur?" said Mme. Delhasse. 

"Forgive me: I spoke to myself--a foolish habit, " I rejoined, with a lowbow and, I'm afraid, a rather malicious smile. The old lady glared at me, bobbed her head the slightest bit in the world, and passed me by. 

I went out into the sunshine, whistling merrily. My good friend the waiterstood by the door. His eyes asked me a question. 

"She is much better, " I said reassuringly. And I walked out, stillwhistling merrily. 

In truth I was very pleased with myself. Every man likes to think that heunderstands women. I was under the impression that I had proved myself topossess a thorough and complete acquaintance with that intricate subject. I was soon to find that my knowledge had its limitations. In fact, I havebeen told more than once since that my plan was a most outrageous one. Perhaps it was; but it had the effect of wresting those dangerous stonesfrom poor Marie's regretful hands. A man need not mind having made a foolof himself once or twice on his way through the world, so he has done somegood by the process. At the moment, however, I felt no need for any suchapology. 

CHAPTER IX. 

An Unparalleled Insult. 

I was thoughtful as I walked across the _place_ in front of the church inthe full glare of the afternoon sun. It was past four o'clock; the townwas more lively, as folk, their day's work finished, came out to taketheir ease and filled the streets and the _cafés_. I felt that I also haddone something like a day's work; but my task was not complete till I hadlodged my precious trust safely in the keeping of the duchess. 

There was, however, still time to spare, and I sat down at a _café_ andordered some coffee. While it was being brought my thoughts played roundMarie Delhasse. I doubted whether I disliked her for being tempted, orliked her for resisting at the last; at any rate, I was glad to havehelped her a little. If I could now persuade her to leave Avranches, Ishould have done all that could reasonably be expected of me; if the dukepursued, she must fight the battle for herself. So I mused, sipping mycoffee; and then I fell to wondering what the duchess would say on seeingme again so soon. Would she see me? She must, whether she liked it or not;I could not keep the diamonds all night. Perhaps she would like. 

"There you are again!" I said to myself sharply, and I roused myself frommy meditations. 

As I looked up, I saw the man Lafleur opposite to me. He had his backtoward me, but I knew him, and he was just walking into a shop that facedthe _café_ and displayed in its windows an assortment of offensiveweapons--guns, pistols, and various sorts of knives. Lafleur went in. Isat sipping my coffee. He was there nearly twenty minutes; then he cameout and walked leisurely away. I paid my score and strolled over to theshop. I wondered what he had been buying. Dueling pistols for the duke, perhaps! I entered and asked to be shown some penknives. The shopmanserved me with alacrity. I chose a cheap knife, and then I permitted mygaze to rest on a neat little pistol that lay on the counter. My simple_ruse_ was most effective. In a moment I was being acquainted with all themerits of the instrument, and the eulogy was backed by the informationthat a gentleman had bought two pistols of the same make not ten minutesbefore I entered the shop. 

"Really!" said I. "What for?"

"Oh, I don't know, sir. It is a wise thing often to carry one of theselittle fellows. One never knows. "

"In case of a quarrel with another gentleman?"

"Oh, they are hardly such as we sell for dueling, sir. "

"Aren't they?"

"They are rather pocket pistols--to carry if you are out at night; and wesell many to gentlemen who have occasion in the way of their business tocarry large sums of money or valuables about with them. They give a senseof security, sir, even if no occasion arises for their use. "

"And this gentleman bought two? Who was he?"

"I don't know, sir. He gave me no name. "

"And you didn't know him by sight?"

"No, sir; perhaps he is a stranger. But indeed I'm almost that myself: Ihave but just set up business here. "

"Is it brisk?" I asked, examining the pistol. 

"It is not a brisk place, sir, " the man answered regretfully. "Let me sellyou one, sir!"

It happened to be, for the moment, in the way of my business to carryvaluables, but I hoped it would not be for long, so that I did not buy apistol; but I allowed myself to wonder what my friend Lafleur wanted withtwo--and they were not dueling pistols! If I had been going to keep thediamonds--but then I was not. And, reminded by this reflection, I set outat once for the convent. 

Now the manner in which the Duchess of Saint-Maclou saw fit to treatme--who was desirous only of serving her--on this occasion went far tomake me disgusted with the whole affair into which I had been drawn. Itmight have been supposed that she would show gratitude; I think that evena little admiration and a little appreciation of my tact would not havebeen, under the circumstances, out of place. It is not every day that alady has such a thing as the Cardinal's Necklace rescued from great periland freely restored, with no claim (beyond that for ordinary civility) onthe part of the rescuer. 

And the cause did not lie in her happening to be out of temper, for shegreeted me at first with much graciousness, and sitting down on the cornbin (she was permitted on this occasion to meet me in the stable), shebegan to tell me that she had received a most polite--and indeed almostaffectionate--letter from the duke, in which he expressed deep regret forher absence, but besought her to stay where she was as long as the healthof her soul demanded. He would do himself the honor of waiting on her andescorting her home, when she made up her mind to return to him. 

"Which means, " observed the duchess, as she replaced the letter in herpocket, "that the Delhasses are going, and that if I go (without noticeanyhow) I shall find them there. "

"I read it in the same way; but I'm not so sure that the Delhasses aregoing. "

"You are so charitable, " said she, still quite sweetly. "You can't bringyourself to think evil of anybody. "

The duchess chanced to look so remarkably calm and composed as she sat onthe corn bin that I could not deny myself the pleasure of surprising herwith the sudden apparition of the Cardinal's Necklace. Without a word, Itook the case out of my pocket, opened it, and held it out toward her. Foronce the duchess sat stock-still, her eyes round and large. 

"Have you been robbing and murdering my husband?" she gasped. 

With a very complacent smile I began my story. Who does not know what itis to begin a story with a triumphant confidence in its favorablereception? Who does not know that first terrible glimmer of doubt when thestory seems not to be making the expected impression? Who has not enduredthe dull dogged despair in which the story, damned by the stony faces ofthe auditors, has yet to drag on a hated weary life to a dishonored grave?

These stages came and passed as I related to Mme. De Saint-Maclou how Icame to be in a position to hand back to her the Cardinal's Necklace. Still, silent, pale, with her lips curled in a scornful smile, she sat andlistened. My tone lost its triumphant ring, and I finished in cold, distant, embarrassed accents. 

"I have only, " said I, "to execute my commission and hand the box and itscontents over to you. "

And, thus speaking, I laid the necklace in its case on the corn bin besidethe duchess. 

The duchess said nothing at all. She looked at me once--just once; and Iwished then and there that I had listened to Gustave de Berensac's secondthoughts and left with him at ten o'clock in the morning. Then havingdelivered this barbed shaft of the eyes, the duchess sat looking straightin front of her, bereft of her quick-changing glances, robbed of hersupple grace--like frozen quicksilver. And the necklace glittered awayindifferently between us. 

At last the duchess, her eyes still fixed on the whitewashed wallopposite, said in a slow emphatic tone:

"I wouldn't touch it, if it were the crown of France!"

I plucked up my courage to answer her. For Marie Delhasse's sake I felt asudden anger. 

"You are pharisaical, " said I. "The poor girl has acted honorably. Hertouch has not defiled your necklace. "

"Yes, you must defend what you persuaded, " flashed out the duchess. "It'sthe greatest insult I was ever subjected to in my life!"

Here was the second lady I had insulted on that summer day!

"I did but suggest it--it was her own wish. "

"Your suggestion is her wish! How charming!" said the duchess. 

"You are unjust to her!" I said, a little warmly. 

The duchess rose from the corn bin, made the very most of her sixty-threeinches, and remarked:

"It's a new insult to mention her to me. "

I passed that by; it was too absurd to answer. 

"You must take it now I've brought it, " I urged in angry puzzle. 

The duchess put out her hand, grasped the case delicately, shut it--andflung it to the other side of the stable, hard by where an old ass wasplacidly eating a bundle of hay. 

"That's the last time I shall touch it!" said she, turning and looking mein the face. 

"But what am I to do with it?" I cried. 

"Whatever you please, " returned Mme. De Saint-Maclou; and without anotherword, without another glance, either at me or at the necklace, she walkedout of the stable, and left me alone with the necklace and the ass. 

The ass had given one start as the necklace fell with a thud on the floor;but he was old and wise, and soon fell again to his meal. I sat drummingmy heels against the corn bin. Evening was falling fast, and everythingwas very still. No man ever had a more favorable hour for reflection andintrospection. I employed it to the full. Then I rose, and crossing thestable, pulled the long ears of my friend who was eating the hay. 

"I suppose you also were a young ass once, " said I with a rueful smile. 

Well, I couldn't leave the Cardinal's Necklace in the corner of theconvent stable. I picked up the box. Neddy thrust out his nose at it. Iopened it and let him see the contents. He snuffed scornfully and turnedback to the hay. 

"He won't take it either, " said I to myself, and with a muttered curse Idropped the wretched thing back in the pocket of my coat, wishing muchevil to everyone who had any hand in bringing me into connection with it, from his Eminence the Cardinal Armand de Saint-Maclou down to the waiterat the hotel. 

Slowly and in great gloom of mind I climbed the hill again. I supposedthat I must take the troublesome ornament back to Marie Delhasse, confessing that my fine idea had ended in nothing save a direct andstinging insult for her and a scathing snub for me. My pride made thisnecessity hard to swallow, but I believe there was also a more worthyfeeling that caused me to shrink from it. I feared that her goodresolutions would not survive such treatment, and that the rebuff woulddrive her headlong into the ruin from which I had trusted that she wouldbe saved. Yet there was nothing else for it. Back the necklace must go. Icould but pray--and earnestly I did pray--that my fears might not berealized. 

I found myself opposite the gun-maker's shop; and it struck me that Imight probably fail to see Marie alone that evening. I had no means ofdefense--I had never thought any necessary. But now a sudden nervousnessgot hold of me: it seemed to me as if my manner must betray to everyonethat I carried the necklace--as if the lump in my coat stood outconspicuous as Mont St. Michel itself. Feeling that I was doing ahalf-absurd thing, still I stepped into the shop and announced that, onfurther reflection, I would buy the little pistol. The good man wasdelighted to sell it to me. 

"If you carry valuables, sir, " he said, repeating his stockrecommendation, "it will give you a feeling of perfect safety. "

"I don't carry valuables, " said I abruptly, almost rudely, and with mostunnecessary emphasis. 

"I did but suggest, sir, " he apologized. "And at least, it may be that youwill require to do so some day. "

"That, " I was forced to admit, "is of course not impossible. " And I slidthe pistol and a supply of cartridges into the other pocket of my coat. 

"Distribute the load, sir, " advised the smiling nuisance. "One side ofyour coat will be weighed down. Ah, pardon! I perceive that there isalready something in the other pocket. "

"A sandwich-case, " said I; and he bowed with exactly the smile the waiterhad worn when I said that I came from Mont St. Michel. 

CHAPTER X. 

Left on my Hands. 

"There is nothing else for it!" I exclaimed, as I set out for the hotel. "I'll go back to England. "

I could not resist the conclusion that my presence in Avranches was nolonger demanded. The duchess had, on the one hand, arrived at a sort ofunderstanding with her husband; while she had, on the other, contrived tocreate a very considerable misunderstanding with me. She had shown nogratitude for my efforts, and made no allowance for the mistakes which, possibly, I had committed. She had behaved so unreasonably as to releaseme from any obligation. As to Marie Delhasse, I had had enough (so Ideclared in the hasty disgust my temper engendered) of Quixotic endeavorsto rescue people who, had they any moral resolution, could well rescuethemselves. There was only one thing left which I might with dignityundertake--and that was to put as many miles as I could between the sceneof my unappreciated labors and myself. This I determined to do the verynext day, after handing back this abominable necklace with as littleobvious appearance of absurdity as the action would permit. 

It was six o'clock when I reached the hotel and walked straight up to myroom in sulky isolation, looking neither to right nor left, and exchanginga word with nobody. I tossed the red box down on the table, and flungmyself into an armchair. I had half a mind to send the box down to MarieDelhasse by the waiter--with my compliments; but my ill-humor did notcarry me so far as thus to risk betraying her to her mother, and Iperceived that I must have one more interview with her--and the sooner thebetter. I rang the bell, meaning to see if I could elicit from the waiterany information as to the state of affairs on the first floor and theprospect of finding Marie alone for ten minutes. 

I rang once--twice--thrice; the third was a mighty pull, and had at lastthe effect of bringing up my friend the waiter, breathless, hot, anddisheveled. 

"Why do you keep me waiting like this?" I asked sternly. 

His puffs and pants prevented him from answering for a full half-minute. 

"I was busy on the first floor, sir, " he protested at last. "I came at thevery earliest moment. "

"What's going on on the first floor?"

"The lady is in a great hurry, sir. She is going away, sir. She has beentaking a hasty meal, and her carriage is ordered to be round at the doorthis very minute. And all the luggage had to be carried down, and--"

I walked to the window, and, putting my head out, saw a closed carriage, with four trunks and some smaller packages on the roof, standing at thedoor. 

"Where are they going?" I asked, turning round. 

The waiter was gone! A bell ringing violently from below explained hisdisappearance, but did not soothe my annoyance. I rang my bell veryforcibly again: the action was a welcome vent for my temper. Turning backto the window, I found the carriage still there. A second or two later, Mme. Delhasse, attended by the waiter who ought to have been looking afterme, came out of the hotel and got into the carriage. She spoke to thewaiter, and appeared to give him money. He bowed and closed the door. Thedriver started his horses and made off at a rapid pace toward thecarriage-road down the hill. I watched till the vehicle was out of sightand then drew my head in, giving a low puzzled whistle and forgetting thebetter part of my irritation in the interest of this new development. Where was the old witch going--and why was she going alone?

Again I rang my bell; but the waiter was at the door before it ceasedtinkling. 

"Where's she going to?" I asked. 

"To the house of the Duke of Saint-Maclou, sir, " he answered, wiping hisbrow and sighing for relief that he had got rid of her. 

"And the young lady--where is she?"

"She has already gone, sir. "

"Already gone!" I cried. "Gone where? Gone when?"

"About two hours ago, sir--very soon after I saw you go out, sir--amessenger brought a letter for the young lady. I took it upstairs; she wasalone when I entered. When she looked at the address, sir, she made alittle exclamation, and tore the note open in a manner that showed greatagitation. She read it; and when she had read it stood still, holding itin her hand for a minute or two. She had turned pale and breathed quickly. Then she signed to me with her hand to go. But she stopped me with anothergesture, and--and then, sir--"

"Well, well, get on!" I cried. 

"Then, sir, she asked if you were in the hotel, and I said no--you hadgone out, I did not know where. Upon that, she walked to the window, andstood looking out for a time. Then she turned round to me, and said: 'Mymother was fatigued by her walk, and is sleeping. I am going out, but I donot wish her disturbed. I will write a note of explanation. Be so good asto cause it to be given to her when she wakes. ' She was calm then, sir;she sat down and wrote, and sealed the note and gave it to me. Then shecaught up her hat, which lay on the table, and her gloves; and then, sir, she walked out of the hotel. "

"Which way did she go?"

"She went, sir, as if she were making for the footpath down the hill. Anhour or more passed, and then madame's bell rang. I ran up and, findingher in the sitting room, I gave her the note. "

"And what did she say?"

"She read it, and cried 'Ah!' in great satisfaction, and immediatelyordered a carriage and that the maid should pack all her luggage and theyoung lady's. Oh! she was in a great hurry, and in the best of spirits;and she pressed us on so that I was not able to attend properly to you, sir. And finally, as you saw, she drove off to the house of the duke, still in high good humor. "

The waiter paused. I sat silent in thought. 

"Is there anything else you wish to know, sir?" asked the waiter. 

Then my much-tried temper gave way again. 

"I want to know what the devil it all means!" I roared. 

The waiter drew near, wearing a very sympathetic expression. I knew thathe had always put me down as an admirer of Marie Delhasse. He saw in menow a beaten rival. Curiously I had something of the feeling myself. 

"There is one thing, sir, " said he. "The stable-boy told me. The messagefor Mlle. Delhasse was brought from a carriage which waited at the bottomof the hill, out of sight of the town. And--well, sir, the servants woreno livery; but the boy declares that the horses were those of the Duke ofSaint-Maclou. "

I muttered angrily to myself. The waiter, discreetly ignoring my words, continued:

"And, indeed, sir, madame expected to meet her daughter. For I chanced toask her if she would take with her a bouquet of roses which she hadpurchased in the town, and she answered: 'Give them to me. My daughterwill like to have them. '"

The waiter's conclusion was obvious. And yet I did not accept it. For why, if Marie were going to the duke's, should she not have aroused her motherand gone with her? That the duke had sent his carriage for her was likelyenough; that he would cause it to wait outside the town was notimpossible; that Marie had told her mother that she had gone to the duke'swas also clear from that lady's triumphant demeanor. But that she had inreality gone, I could not believe. A sudden thought struck me. 

"Did Mlle. Delhasse, " I asked, "send any answer to the note that came fromthe carriage?"

"Ah, sir, I forgot. Certainly. She wrote an answer, and the messengercarried it away with him. "

"And did the boy you speak of see anything more of the carriage?"

"He did not pass that way again, sir. "

My mind was now on the track of Marie's device. The duke had sent hiscarriage to fetch her. She, left alone, unable to turn to me for guidance, determined not to go; afraid to defy him--more afraid, no doubt, becauseshe could no longer produce the necklace--had played a neat trick. Shemust have sent a message to the duke that she would come with her motherimmediately that the necessary preparations could be made; she had thenwritten a note to her mother to tell her that she had gone in the duke'scarriage and looked to her mother to follow her. And having thus thrownboth parties on a false scent, she had put on her hat and walked quietlyout of the hotel. But, then, where had she walked to? My chain ofinference was broken by that missing link. I looked up at the waiter. Andthen I cursed my carelessness. For the waiter's eyes were no longer fixedon my face, but were fastened in eloquent curiosity on the red box whichlay on my table. To my apprehensive fancy the Cardinal's Necklace seemedto glitter through the case. That did not of course happen; but a jewelcase is easy to recognize, and I knew in a moment that the waiterdiscerned the presence of precious stones. Our eyes met. In my puzzle Icould do nothing but smile feebly and apologetically. The waiter smiledalso--but his was a smile of compassion and condolence. He took a stepnearer to me, and with infinite sympathy in his tone observed:

"Ah, well, sir, do not despair! A gentleman like you will soon findanother lady to value the present more. "

In spite of my vanity--and I was certainly not presenting myself in a verytriumphant guise to the waiter's imagination--I jumped at the mistake. 

"They are capricious creatures!" said I with a shrug. "I'll trouble myselfno more about them. "

"You're right, sir, you're right. It's one one day, and another another. It's a pity, sir, to waste thought on them--much more, good money. Youwill dine to-night, sir?" and his tone took a consolatory inflection. 

"Certainly I will dine, " said I; and with a last nod of intelligence andcommiseration, he withdrew. 

And then I leaped, like a wildcat, on the box that contained theCardinal's Necklace, intent on stowing it away again in the seclusion ofmy coat-pocket. But again I stood with it in my hand--struck still withthe thought that I could not now return it to Marie Delhasse, that she hadvanished leaving it on my hands, and that, in all likelihood, in three orfour hours' time the Duke of Saint-Maclou would be scouring the countryand setting every spring in motion in the effort to find the truant lady, and--what I thought he would be at least anxious about--the truantnecklace. For to give your family heirlooms away without recompense is avexatious thing; and ladies who accept them and vanish with them intospace can claim but small consideration. And, moreover, if the missingproperty chance to be found in the possession of a gentleman who isreluctant to explain his presence, who has masqueraded as a groom withintent to deceive the owner of the said property, and has no visiblebusiness to bring or keep him on the spot at all--when all this happens, it is apt to look very awkward for that gentleman. 

"You will regret it if you don't start with me;" so said Gustave deBerensac. The present was one of the moments in which I heartily agreedwith his prescient prophecy. Human nature is a poor thing. To speakcandidly, I cannot recollect that, amid my own selfish perplexities, Ispared more than one brief moment to gladness that Marie Delhasse hadeluded the pursuit of the Duke of Saint-Maclou. But I spared another towishing that she had thought of telling me to what haven she was bound. 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Very Clever Scheme. 

I must confess at once that I might easily have displayed more acumen, andthat there would have been nothing wonderful in my discerning or guessingthe truth about Marie Delhasse's movements. Yet the truth never occurredto me, never so much as suggested itself in the shape of a possibleexplanation. I cannot quite tell why; perhaps it conflicted too stronglywith the idea of her which possessed me; perhaps it was characteristic ofa temperament so different from my own that I could not anticipate it. Atany rate, be the reason what it may, I did not seriously doubt that MarieDelhasse had cut the cords which bound her by a hasty flight fromAvranches; and my conviction was deepened by my knowledge that an eveningtrain left for Paris just about half an hour after Marie, having playedher trick on her mother and on the Duke of Saint-Maclou, had walked out ofthe hotel, no man and no woman hindering her. 

Under these circumstances, my work--imposed and voluntary alike--was done;and the cheering influence of the dinner to which I sat down so awoke mymind to fresh agility that I found the task of disembarrassing myself ofthat old man of the sea--the Cardinal's Necklace--no longer so hopeless asit had appeared in the hungry disconsolate hour before my meal. Nay, I sawmy way to performing, incidentally, a final service to Marie by creatingin the mind of the duke such chagrin and anger as would, I hoped, disincline him from any pursuit of her. If I could, by one stroke, restorehim his diamonds and convince him, not of Marie's virtue, but of herfaithlessness, I trusted to be humbly instrumental in freeing her from hisimportunity, and of restoring the jewels to the duchess--nay, of restoringto her also the undisturbed possession of her home and of the society ofher husband. At this latter prospect I told myself that I ought to feelvery satisfied, and rather to my surprise found myself feeling not verydissatisfied; for most unquestionably the duchess had treated mevillainously and had entirely failed to appreciate me. My face still wenthot to think of the glance she had given Marie Delhasse's maladroitambassador. 

After these reflections and a bottle of Burgundy (I will not apportion thecredit) I rose from the table humming a tune and started to go upstairs, conning my scheme in a contented mind. As I passed through the hall theporter handed me a note, saying that a boy had left it and that there wasno answer. I opened and read it; it was very short and it ran thus:

I wish never to see you again. ELSA. 

Now "Elsa" (and I believe that I have not mentioned the fact before--anevidence, if any were needed, of my discretion) was the Christian name ofthe Duchess of Saint-Maclou. Picking up her dropped handkerchief as werambled through the woods, I had seen the word delicately embroideredthereon, and I had not forgotten this chance information. But why--letthose learned in the ways of women answer if they can--why, first, did shewrite at all? Why, secondly, did she tell me what had been entirelyobvious from her demeanor? Why, thirdly, did she choose to affix to thedocument which put an end to our friendship a name which that friendshiphad never progressed far enough to justify me in employing? To none ofthese pertinent queries could I give a satisfactory reply. Yet, somehow, that "Elsa" standing alone, shorn of all aristocratic trappings, had astrange attraction for me, and carried with it a pleasure that theuncomplimentary tenor of the rest of the document did not entirelyobliterate. "Elsa" wished never to see me again: that was bad; but it was"Elsa" who was so wicked as to wish that: that was good. And by a curiousfreak of the mind it occurred to me as a hardship that I had not receivedso much as a note of one line from--"Marie. "

"Nonsense!" said I aloud and peevishly; and I thrust the letter into mypocket, cheek by jowl with the Cardinal's Necklace. And being thus vividlyreminded of the presence of that undesired treasure, I became clearlyresolved that I must not be arrested for theft merely because the Duchessof Saint-Maclou chose (from hurry, or carelessness, or what motive youwill) to sign a disagreeable and unnecessary communication with herChristian name and nothing more, nor because Mlle. Delhasse chose tovanish without a word of civil farewell. Let them go their ways--I did notknow which of them annoyed me more. Notwithstanding the letter, notwithstanding the disappearance, my scheme must be carried out. Andthen--for home! But the conclusion came glum and displeasing. 

The scheme was very simple. I intended to spend the hours of the night inan excursion to the duke's house. I knew that old Jean slept in a detachedcottage about half a mile from the _château_. Here I should find the oldman. I would hand to him the necklace in its box, without telling him whatthe contents of the box were. Jean would carry the parcel to his master, and deliver with it a message to the effect that a gentleman who had leftAvranches that afternoon had sent the parcel by a messenger to the duke, inasmuch as he had reason to believe that the article contained thereinwas the property of the duke and that the duke would probably be glad tohave it restored to him. The significant reticence of this message wasmeant to inform the duke that Marie Delhasse was not so solitary in herflight but that she could find a cavalier to do her errands for her, andone who would not acquiesce in the retention of the diamonds. I imagined, with a great deal of pleasure, what the duke's feelings would be in faceof the communication. Thus, then, the diamonds were to be restored, theduke disgusted, and I myself freed from all my troubles. I have oftenthought since that the scheme was really very ingenious, and showed atalent for intrigue which has been notably wanting in the rest of myhumble career. 

The scheme once prosperously carried through, I should, of course, take mydeparture at the earliest moment on the following day. I might, or I mightnot, write a line of dignified remonstrance to the duchess, but I shouldmake no attempt to see her; and I should most certainly go. Moreover, itwould be a long while before I accepted any of her harum-scaruminvitations again. 

"Elsa" indeed! Somehow I could not say it with quite the indignant scornwhich I desired should be manifest in my tone. I have never been able tobe indignant with the duchess; although I have laughed at her. Now I couldbe, and was, indignant with Marie Delhasse; though, in truth, herdifficult position pleaded excuses for her treatment of me which theduchess could not advance. 

As the clock of the church struck ten I walked downstairs from my room, wearing a light short overcoat tightly buttoned up. I informed the waiterthat I was likely to be late, secured the loan of a latchkey, and left mygood friend under the evident impression that I was about to range theshores of the bay in love-lorn solitude. Then I took the footpath down thehill and, swinging along at a round pace, was fairly started on myjourney. If the inference I drew from the next thing I saw were correct, it was just as well for me to be out of the way for a little while. For, when I was still about thirty yards from the main road, there dashed pastthe end of the lane leading up the hill a carriage and pair, traveling atfull speed. I could not see who rode inside; but two men sat on the box, and there was luggage on the top. I could not be sure in the dim light, but I had a very strong impression that the carriage was the same as thatwhich had conveyed Mme. Delhasse out of my sight earlier in the evening. If it were so, and if the presence of the luggage indicated that of itsowner, the good lady, arriving alone, must have met with the scantestwelcome from the duke. And she would return in a fury of anger andsuspicion. I was glad not to meet her; for if she were searching forexplanation, I fancied, from glances she had given me, that I was likelyto come in for a share of her attention. In fact, she might reasonablyhave supposed that I was interested in her daughter; nor, indeed, wouldshe have been wrong so far. 

Briskly I pursued my way, and in something over an hour I reached the turnin the road and, setting my face inland, began to climb the hill. A milefurther on I came on a bypath, and not doubting from my memory of thedirection, that this must be a short cut to the house, I left the road andstruck along the narrow wooded track. But, although shorter than the road, it was not very direct, and I found myself thinking it very creditable tothe topographical instinct of my friend and successor, Pierre, that heshould have discovered on a first visit, and without having been to thehouse, that this was the best route to follow. With the knowledge of wherethe house lay, however, it was not difficult to keep right, and anotherforty minutes brought me, now creeping along very cautiously, alertly, andwith open ears, to the door of old Jean's little cottage. No doubt he wasfast asleep in his bed, and I feared the need of a good deal of noisyknocking before he could be awakened from a peasant's heavy slumber. 

My delight was therefore great when I discovered that--either because hetrusted his fellow-men, or because he possessed nothing in the least worthstealing--he had left his door simply on the latch. I lifted the latch andwalked in. A dim lantern burned on a little table near the smolderinglog-fire. Yet the light was enough to tell me that my involuntary host wasnot in the room. I passed across its short breadth to a door in theopposite wall. The door yielded to a push; all was dark inside. I listenedfor a sleeper's breathing, but heard nothing. I returned, took up thelantern, and carried it with me into the inner room. I held it above myhead, and it enabled me to see the low pallet-bed in the corner. But Jeanwas not lying in the bed--nay, it was clear that he had not lain on thebed all that night. Yet his bedtime was half-past eight or nine, and itwas now hard on one o'clock. Jean was "making a night of it, " that seemedvery clear. But what was the business or pleasure that engaged him? Iadmit that I was extremely annoyed. My darling scheme, on which I hadprided myself so much, was tripped up by the trifling accident of Jean'sabsence. 

What in the world, I asked again, kept the old man from his bed? Itsuddenly struck me that he might, by the duke's orders, have accompaniedMme. Delhasse back to Avranches, in order to be able to report to hismaster any news that came to light there. He might well have been thesecond man on the box. This reflection removed my surprise at his absence, but not my vexation. I did not know what to do! Should I wait? But hemight not be back till morning. Wearily, in high disgust, I recognizedthat the great scheme had, for tonight at least, gone awry, and that Imust tramp back to Avranches, carrying my old man of the sea, theCardinal's Necklace. For Jean could not read, and it was useless to leavethe parcel with written directions. 

I went into the outer room, and set the lantern in its place; I took apull at my flask, and smoked a pipe. Then, with a last sigh of vexation, Igrasped my stick in my hand, rose to my feet, and moved toward the door. 

Ah! Hark! There was a footstep outside. 

"Thank Heaven, here comes the old fool!" I murmured. 

The step came on, and, as it came, I listened to it; and as I listened toit, the sudden satisfaction that had filled me as suddenly died away; for, if that were the step of old Jean, may I see no difference between thefootfalls of an elephant and of a ballet-dancer! And then, before I hadtime to form any plan, or to do anything save stand staring in the middleof the floor, the latch was lifted again, the door opened, and inwalked--the Duke of Saint-Maclou!

CHAPTER XII. 

As a Man Possessed. 

The dim light served no further than to show that a man was there. 

"Well, Jean, what news?" asked the duke, drawing the door close behindhim. 

"I am not Jean, " said I. 

"Then who the devil are you, and what are you doing here?" He advanced andheld up the lantern. "Why, what are you hanging about for?" he exclaimedthe next moment, with a start of surprise. 

"And I am not George Sampson either, " said I composedly. I had no mind toplay any more tricks. As I must meet him, it should be in my owncharacter. 

The duke studied me from top to toe. He twirled his mustache, and a slightsmile appeared on his full lips. 

"Yet I know you as George Sampson, I think, sir, " said he, but in analtered tone. He spoke now as though to an equal--to an enemy perhaps, butto an equal. 

I was in some perplexity; but a moment later he relieved me. 

"You need trouble yourself with no denials, " he said. "Lafleur's story ofthe gentleman at Avranches, with the description of him, struck me asstrange; and for the rest--there were two things. "

He seated himself on a stool. I leaned against the wall. 

"In the first place, " he continued, "I know my wife pretty well; in thesecond, a secret known to four maidservants-- Really, sir, you were veryconfiding!"

"I was doing no wrong, " said I; though not, I confess, in a very convincedtone. 

"Then why the masquerade?" he answered quickly, hitting my weak point. 

"Because you were known to be unreasonable. "

His smile broadened a little. 

"It's the old crime of husbands, isn't it?" he asked. "Well, sir, I'm nolawyer, and it's not my purpose to question you on that matter. I will putyou to no denials. "

I bowed. The civility of his demeanor was a surprise to me. 

"If that were the only affair, I need not keep you ten minutes, " he wenton. "At least, I presume that my friend would find you when he wanted todeliver a message from me?"

"Certainly. But may I ask why, if that is your intention, you have delayedso long? You guessed I was at Avranches. Why not have sent to me?"

The duke tugged his mustache. 

"I do not know your name, sir, " he remarked. 

"My name is Aycon. "

"I know the name, " and he bowed slightly. "Well, I didn't send to you atAvranches because I was otherwise occupied. "

"I am glad, sir, that you take it so lightly, " said I. 

"And by the way, Mr. Aycon, before you question me, isn't there a questionI might ask you? How came you here to-night?" And, as he spoke, his smilevanished. 

"I have nothing to say, beyond that I hoped to see your servant Jean. "

"For what purpose? Come, sir, for what purpose? I have a right to ask forwhat purpose. " And his tone rose in anger. 

I was going to give him a straightforward answer. My hand was actually onthe way to the spot where I felt the red box pressing against my side, when he rose from his seat and strode toward me; and a sudden passionsurged in his voice. 

"Answer me! answer me!" he cried. "No, I'm not asking about my wife; Idon't care a farthing for that empty little parrot. Answer me, sir, as youvalue your life! What do you know of Marie Delhasse?"

And he stood before me with uplifted hand, as though he meant to strikeme. I did not move, and we looked keenly into one another's eyes. Hecontrolled himself by a great effort, but his hands trembled, as hecontinued:

"That old hag who came to-night and dared to show her filthy face herewithout her daughter--she told me of your talks and walks. The girl wasready to come. Who stopped her? Who turned her mind? Who was there butyou--you--you?"

And again his passion overcame him, and he was within an ace of dashinghis fist in my face. 

My hands hung at my side, and I leaned easily against the wall. 

"Thank God, " said I, "I believe I stopped her! I believe I turned hermind. I did my best, and except me, nobody was there. "

"You admit it?"

"I admit the crime you charged me with. Nothing more. "

"What have you done with her? Where is she now?"

"I don't know. "

"Ah!" he cried, in angry incredulity. "You don't know, don't you?"

"And if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. "

"I'm sure of that, " he sneered. "It is knowledge a man keeps to himself, isn't it? But, by Heaven, you shall tell me before you leave this place, or--"

"We have already one good ground of quarrel, " I interrupted. "What need isthere of another?"

"A good ground of quarrel?" he repeated, in a questioning tone. 

Honestly I believe that he had for the moment forgotten. His passion forMarie Delhasse and fury at the loss of her filled his whole mind. 

"Oh, yes, " he went on. "About the duchess? True, Mr. Aycon. That willserve--as well as the truth. "

"If that is not a real ground, I know none, " said I. 

"Haven't you told me that you kept her from me?"

"For no purposes of my own. "

He drew back a step, smiling scornfully. 

"A man is bound to protest that the lady is virtuous, " said he; "but needhe insist so much on his own virtue?"

"As it so happens, " I observed, "it's not a question of virtue. "

I suppose there was something in my tone that caught his attention, forhis scornful air was superseded by an intent puzzled gaze, and his nextquestion was put in lower tones:

"What did you stay in Avranches for?"

"Because your wife asked me, " said I. The answer was true enough, but, asI wished to deal candidly with him, I added: "And, later on, Mlle. Delhasse expressed a similar desire. "

"My wife and Mlle. Delhasse! Truly you are a favorite!"

"Honest men happen to be scarce in this neighborhood, " said I. I wasbecoming rather angry. 

"If you are one, I hope to be able to make them scarcer by one more, " saidthe duke. 

"Well, we needn't wrangle over it any more, " said I; and I sat down on thelid of a chest that stood by the hearth. But the duke sprang forward andseized me by the arm, crying again in ungovernable rage:

"Where is she?"

"She is safe from you, I hope. "

"Aye--and you'll keep her safe!"

"As I say, I know nothing about her, except that she'd be an honest girlif you'd let her alone. "

He was still holding my arm, and I let him hold it: the man was hardlyhimself under the slavery of his passion. But again, at my words, thewonder which I had seen before stole into his eyes. 

"You must know where she is, " he said, with a straining look at my face, "but--but--"

He broke off, leaving his sentence unfinished. Then he broke out again:

"Safe from me? I would make life a heaven for her!"

"That's the old plea, " said I. 

"Is a thing a lie because it's old? There's nothing in the world I wouldnot give her--nothing I have not offered her. " Then he looked at me, repeating again: "You must know where she is. " And then he whispered: "Whyaren't you with her?"

"I have no wish to be with her, " said I. Any other reason would not haveappealed to him. 

He sank down on the stool again and sat in a heap, breathing heavily andquickly. He was wonderfully transfigured, and I hardly knew in him thecold harsh man who had been my temporary master and was the mockinghusband of the duchess. Say all that may be said about his passion, Icould not doubt that it was life and death to him. Justification he hadnone; excuse I found in my heart for him, for it struck me--coming overme in a strange sudden revelation as I sat and looked at him--that he hadgiven such love to the duchess, the gay little lady would have beenmarvelously embarrassed. It was hers to dwell in a radiant mid-ether, neither to mount to heaver nor descend to hell. And in one of theses twomust dwell such feelings as the dukes's. 

He roused himself, and leaning forward spoke to me again:

"You've lived in the same house with her and talked to her. You swear youdon't love her? What? Has Elsa's little figure come between?"

His tone was full of scorn. He seemed angry with me, not for presuming tolove his wife (nay, he would not believe that), but for being so blind asnot to love Marie. 

"I didn't love her!" I answered, with a frown on my face and slow words. 

"You have never felt attracted to her?"

I did not answer that question. I sat frowning in silence till the dukespoke again, in a low hoarse whisper:

"And she? What says she to you?"

I looked up with a start, and met his searching wrathful gaze. I shook myhead; his question was new to me--new and disturbing. 

"I don't know, " said I; and on that we sat in silence for many moments. 

Then he rose abruptly and stood beside me. 

"Mr. Aycon, " he said, in the smoother tones in which he had begun ourcurious interview, "I came near a little while ago to doing a ruffianlything, of a sort I am not wont to do. We must fight out our quarrel in theproper way. Have you any friends in the neighborhood?"

"I am quite unknown, " I answered. 

He thought for an instant, and then continued:

"There is a regiment quartered at Pontorson, and I have acquaintances amongthe officers. If agreeable to you, we will drive over there; we shall findgentlemen ready to assist us. "

"You are determined to fight?" I asked. 

"Yes, " he said, with a snap of his lips. "Have we not matters enough andto spare to fight about?"

"I can't of course deny that you have a pretext. "

"And I, Mr. Aycon, know that I have also a cause. Will this morning suityou?"

"It is hard on two now. "

"Precisely. We have time for a little rest; then I will order the carriageand we will drive together to Pontorson. "

"You mean that I should stay in your house?"

"If you will so far honor me. I wish to settle this affair at once, so asto be moving. "

"I can but accept. "

"Indeed you could hardly get back to Avranches, if, as I presume, you cameon foot. Ah! you've never told me why you wished to see Jean;" and heturned a questioning look on me again, as he walked toward the door of thecottage. 

"It was--" I began. 

"Stay; you shall tell me in the house. Shall I lead the way? Ah, but youknow it!" and he smiled grimly. 

With a bow, I preceded him along the little path where I had once waitedfor the duchess, and where Pierre, the new servant, had found me. No wordspassed between us as we went. The duke advanced to the door and unlockedit. We went in, nobody was about, and we crossed the dimly lighted hallinto the small room where supper had been laid for three (three who shouldhave been four) on the night of my arrival. Meat, bread, and wine stood onthe table now, and with a polite gesture the duke invited me to a repast. I was tired and hungry, and I took a hunch of bread and poured out somewine. 

"What keeps Jean, I wonder?" mused the duke, as he sat down. "Perhaps hehas found her!" and a gleam of eager hope flashed from his eyes. 

I made no comment--where was the profit in more sparring of words? Imunched my bread and drank my wine, thinking, by a whimsical turn ofthought, of Gustave de Berensac and his horror at the table laid forthree. Soon I laid down my napkin, and the duke held out his cigarettecase toward me:

"And now, Mr. Aycon, if I'm not keeping you up--"

"I do not feel sleepy, " said I. 

"It is the same for both of us, " he reminded me, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, then, if you are willing--of course you can refuse if you choose--Ishould like to hear what brought you to Jean's quarters on foot fromAvranches in the middle of the night. "

"You shall hear. I did not desire to meet you, if I could avoid it, andtherefore I sought old Jean, with the intention of making him a messengerto you. "

"For what purpose?"

"To restore to you something which has been left on my hands and to whichyou have a better right than I. "

"Pray, what is that?" he asked, evidently puzzled. The truth never crossedhis mind. 

"This, " said I; and I took the red leathern box out of my pocket, and setit down on the table in front of the duke. And I put my cigarette betweenmy lips and leaned back in my chair. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A Timely Truce. 

I think that at first the Duke of Saint-Maclou could not, as the oldsaying goes, believe his eyes. He sat looking from me to the red box, andfrom the red box back to my face. Then he stretched out a slow, waveringhand and drew the box nearer to him till it rested in the circle of hisspread-out arm and directly under his poring gaze. He seemed to shrinkfrom opening it; but at last he pressed the spring with a covert timidmovement of his finger, and the lid, springing open, revealed theCardinal's Necklace. 

It seemed to be more brilliant than I had ever seen it, in the light ofthe lamp that stood on the table by us; and the duke looked at it as amagician might at the amulet which had failed him, or a warrior at thetalisman that had proved impotent. And I, moved to a sudden anger with himfor tempting the girl with such a bribe, said bitterly and scornfully, with fresh indignation rising in me:

"It was a high bid! Strange that you could not buy her with it!"

He paid no visible heed to my taunt; and his tone was dull, bewildered, and heavy as, holding the box still in his curved arm, he asked slowly:

"Did she give it to you to give to me?"

"She gave it to me to give to your wife. " He looked up with a start. "Butyour wife would not take it of her. And when I returned from my errand shewas gone--where I know not. So I decided to send it back to you. "

He did not follow, or took very little interest in my brief history. Hedid not even reiterate his belief that I knew Marie's whereabouts. Hismind was fixed on another point. 

"How did you know she had it?" he asked. 

"I found her with it on the table before her--"

"You found her?"

"Yes; I went into her sitting room and found her as I say; and she wassobbing; and I got from her the story of it. "

"She told you that?"

"Yes; and she feared to send it back, lest you should come and overbearher resistance. I supposed you had frightened her. But neither would shekeep it--"

"You bade her not, " he put in, in a quick low tone. 

"If you like, I prayed her not. Did it need much cleverness to see whatwas meant by keeping it?"

His mouth twitched. I saw the tempest rising again in him. But for alittle longer he held it down. 

"Do you take me for a fool?" he asked. 

"Am I a boy--do I know nothing of women? And do I know nothing of men?"

And he ended in a miserable laugh, and then fell again to tugging hismustache with his shaking hand. 

"You know, " said I, "what's bad in both; and no doubt that's a good deal. "

In that very room the duchess had called Gustave de Berensac a preacher. Her husband had much the same reproach for me. 

"Sermons are fine from your mouth, " he muttered. 

And then his self-control gave way. With a sweep of his arm he drove thenecklace from him, so that the box whizzed across the table, balanced amoment on the edge, and fell crashing on the ground, while the duke cried:

"God's curse on it and you! You've taken her from me!"

There was danger--there was something like madness--in his aspect as herose, and, facing me where I sat, went on in tones still low, but chargedwith a rage that twisted his features and lined his white cheeks:

"Are you a liar or a fool? Have you taken the game for yourself, or areyou fool enough not to see that she has despised me--and that miserablenecklace--for you--because you've caught her fancy? My God! and I've givenmy life to it for two years past! And you step in. Why didn't you keep tomy wife? You were welcome to her--though I'd have shot you all the samefor my name's sake. You must have Marie too, must you?"

He was mad, if ever man was mad, at that moment. But his words were strongwith the force and clear with the insight of his passion; and the rush ofthem carried my mind along, and swept it with them to their ownconclusion. Nay, I will not say that--for I doubted still; but I doubtedas a man who would deny, not as one who laughs away, a thought. I satsilent, looking, not at him, but at the Cardinal's Necklace on the floor. 

Then, suddenly, while I was still busy with the thought and dazzled at therevelation, while I sat bemused, before I could move, his fingers were onmy throat, and his face within a foot of mine, glaring and working as hesent his strength into his arms to throttle me. For his wife--and hisname--he would fight a duel: for the sake of Marie Delhasse he would domurder on an invited stranger in his house. I struggled to my feet, hisgrip on my throat; and I stretched out my hands and caught him under theshoulders in the armpits, and flung him back against the table, and thencehe reeled on to a large cabinet that was by the wall, and Stood leaningagainst it. 

"I knew you were a villain, " I said, "but I thought you were a gentleman. "(I did not stop to consider the theory implied in that. )

He leaned against the cabinet, red with his exertion and panting; but hedid not come at me again. He dashed his hand across his forehead and thenhe said in hoarse breathless tones:

"You shan't leave here alive!"

Then, with a start of recollection, he thrust his hand into his pocket andbrought out a key. He put it in the lock of a drawer of the cabinet, fumbling after the aperture and missing it more than once. Then he openedthe drawer, took out a pair of dueling pistols, and laid them on thetable. 

"They're loaded, " he said. "Examine them for yourself. "

I did not move; but I took my little friend out of my pocket. 

"If I'm attacked, " said I, "I shall defend myself; but I'm not going tofight a duel here, without witnesses, at the dead of night, in yourhouse. "

"Call it what you like then, " said he; and he snatched up a pistol fromthe table. 

He was beyond remonstrance, influence, or control. I believe that in amoment he would have fired; and I must have fired also, or gone to mydeath as a sheep to the slaughter. But as he spoke there came a sound, just audible, which made him pause, with his right hand that held thepistol raised halfway to the level of his shoulder. 

Faint as the sound was, slight as the interruption it would seem to offerto the full career of a madman's fury, it was yet enough to check him, tocall him back to consciousness of something else in the world than hisbalked passion and the man whom he deemed to have thwarted it. 

"What's that?" he whispered. 

It was the lowest, softest knock at the door--a knock that even in askingattention almost shrank from being heard. It was repeated, louder, yethardly audibly. The duke, striding on the tip of his toes, transferred thepistols from the table back to the drawer, and stood with his hand insidethe open drawer: I slid my weapon into my pocket; and then he trod softlyacross the floor to the door. 

"One moment!" I whispered. 

And I stooped and picked up the Cardinal's Necklace and put it back whereit had lain before, pushing its box under the table by a hasty movement ofmy foot--for the duke, after a nod of intelligence, was already openingthe door. I drew back in the shadow behind it and waited. 

"What do you want?" asked the duke. 

And then a girl stepped hastily into the room and closed the door quicklyand noiselessly behind her. I saw her face: she was my old friend Suzanne. When her eyes fell on me, she started in surprise, as well she might; butthe caution and fear, which had made her knock almost noiseless, her treadsilent, and her face all astrain with alert alarm, held her back from anycry. 

"Never mind him, " said the duke. "That's nothing to do with you. What doyou want?"

"Hush! Speak low. I thought you would still be up, as you told me torefill the lamp and have it burning. There's--there's something going on. "

She spoke in a quick, urgent whisper, and in her agitation remembered nodeference in her words of address. "Going on? Where? Do you mean here?"

"No, no! I heard nothing here. In the duchess's dressing-room: it is justunder the room where I sleep. I awoke about half an hour ago, and I heardsounds from there. There was a sound as of muffled hammering, and then anoise, like the rasping of a file; and I thought I heard people movingabout, but very cautiously. "

The duke and I were both listening attentively. 

"I was frightened, and lay still a little; but then I got up--for thesounds went on--and put on some clothes, and came down--"

"Why didn't you rouse the men? It must be thieves. "

"I did go to the men's room; but their door was locked, and I could notmake them hear. I did not dare to knock loud; but I saw a light in theroom, under the door; and if they'd been awake they would have heard. "

"Perhaps they weren't there, " I suggested. 

Suzanne turned a sudden look on me. Then she said:

"The safe holding the jewels is fixed in the wall of the duchess' dressingroom. And--and Lafleur knows it. "

The duke had heard the story with a frowning face; but now a smileappeared on his lips, and he said:

"Ah, yes! The jewels are there!"

"The--the Cardinal's Necklace, " whispered Suzanne. 

"True, " said the duke; and his eyes met mine, and we both smiled. A fewminutes ago it had not seemed likely that I should share a joke--even arather grim joke--with him. 

"Mr. Aycon, " said he, "are you inclined to help me to look into thismatter? It may be only the girl's fancy--"

"No, no; I heard plainly, " Suzanne protested eagerly. 

"But one can never trust these rascally men-servants. "

"I am quite ready, " said I. 

"Our business, " said he, "will wait. "

"It will be the better for waiting. "

He hesitated a moment; then he assented gravely:

"You're right--much better. "

He took a pistol out of the drawer, and shut and locked the drawer. Thenhe turned to Suzanne and said:

"You had better go back to bed. "

"I daren't, I daren't!"

"Then stay here and keep quiet. Mind, not a sound!"

"Give me a pistol. "

He unlocked the drawer again, and gave her what she asked. Then signing tome to follow him, he opened the door, and we stepped together into thedark hall, the duke laying his hand on my arm and whispering:

"They're after the necklace. "

We groped slowly, with careful noiselessness, across the hall to the footof the great staircase. There we paused and listened. There was nothing tobe heard. We climbed the first flight of stairs, and the duke turned sharpto the right. We were now in a short corridor which ran north and south;three yards ahead of us was another turn, leading to the west wing of thehouse. There was a window by us; the duke gently opened it; and overagainst us, across the base of the triangle formed by the building, wasanother window, four or five yards away. The window was heavily curtained;no light could be seen through it. But as we stood listening, the soundsbegan--first the gentle muffled hammering, then the sound of the file. Theduke still held my arm, and we stood motionless. The sounds went on for awhile. Then they ceased. There was a pause of complete stillness. Then asharp, though not loud, click! And, upon this, the duke whispered to me:

"They've got the safe open. Now they'll find the small portable safe whichholds the necklace. "

And I could make out an amused smile on his pale face. Before I couldspeak, he turned and began to crawl away. I followed. We descended thestairs again to the hall. At the foot he turned sharply to the left, andcame to a standstill in a recess under the staircase. 

"We'll wait here. Is your pistol all right?"

"Yes, all right, " said I. 

And, as I spoke, the faintest sound spread from the top of the stairs, anda board creaked under the steps of a man. I was close against the duke, and I felt him quiver with a stifled laugh. Meanwhile the Cardinal'sNecklace pressed hard against my ribs under my tightly buttoned coat. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

For an Empty Box. 

When I look back on the series of events which I am narrating and try torecover the feelings with which I was affected in its passage, I am almostamazed and in some measure ashamed to find how faint is my abhorrence ofthe Duke of Saint-Maclou. My indignation wants not the bridle but thewhip, and I have to spur myself on to a becoming vehemence of disapproval. I attribute my sneaking kindness for him--for to that and not much less Imust plead guilty--partly indeed to the revelation of a passion in himthat seemed to leave him hardly responsible for the wrong he plotted, butfar more to the incidents of this night, in which I was in a manner hiscomrade and the partner with him in an adventure. To have stood shoulderto shoulder with a man blinds his faults--and the duke bore himself, notmerely with the coolness and courage which I made no doubt of hisdisplaying, but with a readiness and zest remarkable at any time, but morestriking when they followed on the paroxysm to which I had seen himhelplessly subject. These indications of good in the man mollified mydislike and attached me to him by a bond which begot toleration andresists even the clearer and more piercing analysis of memory. Therefore, when those who speak to me of what he did and sought to do say what Icannot help admitting to be true, I hold my peace, thinking that the dukeand I have played as partners as well as on hostile sides, and that I, being no saint, may well hold my tongue about the faults of afellow-sinner. Moreover, --and this is the thing of all strongest to temperor to twist my judgment of him, --I feel often as though it were he wholaid his finger on my blind eyes and bade me look up and see where lay myhappiness. For it is strange how long a man can go without discovering hisown undermost desire. Yet, when seen, how swift it grows!

Quiet and still we stood in the bay of the staircase, and the steps overour heads creaked under the feet of the men who came down. The duke's handwas on my arm, restraining me, and he held it there till the feet hadpassed above us and the stealthy tread landed on the marble flagging ofthe hall. We thrust our heads out and peered through the darkness. I sawthe figures of two men, one following the other toward the front door;this the first and taller unfastened and noiselessly opened; and he andhis fellow, whom, by the added light which entered, I perceived to becarrying a box or case of moderate size, waited for a moment on thethreshold. Then they passed out, drawing the door close after them. 

Still the duke held me back, and we rested where we were three or fourminutes. Then he whispered, "Come, " and we stole across the hall afterthem and found ourselves outside. It must have been about half-past twoo'clock in the morning; there was no moon and it was rather dark. The duketurned sharp to the left and led me to the bypath, and there, a couple ofhundred yards ahead of us, we saw a cube of light that came from a darklantern. 

The duke's face was dimly visible, and an amused smile played on his lipsas he said softly:

"Lafleur and Pierre! They think they've got the necklace!"

Was this the meaning of Pierre's appearance in the role of my successor?The idea suggested itself to me in a moment, and I strove to read mycompanion's face for a confirmation. 

"We'll see where they go, " he whispered, and then laid his finger on hislips. Amusement sounded in his voice; indeed it was impossible not toperceive the humor of the position, when I felt the Cardinal's Necklaceagainst my own ribs. 

We were walking now under cover of the trees which lined the sides of thepath, so that no backward glance could discover us to the thieves; and Iwas wondering how long we were thus to dog their steps, when suddenly theyturned to the left about fifty yards short of the spot where old Jean'scottage stood, and disappeared from our sight. We emerged into the path, the duke taking the lead. He was walking more briskly now, and I saw himexamine his pistol. When we came where the fellows had turned, we followedin their track. 

The first distant hint of approaching morning caught the tops of the treesabove us, turning them from black to a deep chill gray, as we paused tolisten. Our pursuit had brought us directly behind the cottage, which nowstood about a hundred yards on the right; and then we came upon them--orrather suddenly stopped and crouched down to avoid coming upon them--wherethey were squatting on the ground with a black iron box between them, andthe lantern's light thrown on the keyhole of the box. Lafleur held thelantern; Pierre's hand was near the lock, and I presumed--I could notsee--that he held some instrument with which he meant to open it. A ringof trees framed the picture, and the men sat in a hollow, well hidden fromthe path even had it been high day. 

The Duke of Saint-Maclou touched my arm, and I leaned forward to look inhis face. He nodded, and, brushing aside the trees, we sprang out upon theastonished fellows. Fora moment they did not move, struck motionless withsurprise, while we stood over them, pistols in hand. We had caught themfair and square. Expecting no interruption, they had guarded against none. Their weapons were in their pockets, their hands busy with their job. Theysprang up the next moment; but the duke's muzzle covered Lafleur, and minewas leveled full at Pierre. A second later Lafleur fell on his knees witha cry for mercy; the little man stood quite still, his arms by his sideand the iron box hard by his feet. Lafleur's protestations andlamentations began to flow fast. Pierre shrugged his shoulders. The dukeadvanced, and I kept pace with him. 

"Keep your eye on that fellow, Mr. Aycon, " said the duke; and then he puthis left hand in his pocket, took out a key and flung it in Lafleur'sface. It struck him sharply between the eyes, and he whined again. 

"Open the box, " said the duke. "Open it--do you hear? This instant!"

With shaking hands the fellow dragged the box from where it lay byPierre's feet, and dropping on his knees began to fumble with the lock. Atlast he contrived to unlock it, and raised the lid. The duke sprangforward and, catching him by the nape of the neck, crammed his head downinto the box, bidding him, "Look--look--look!" And while he said it helaughed, and took advantage of Lafleur's posture to give him four or fivehearty kicks. 

"It's empty!" cried Lafleur, surprise rescuing him for an instant from theother emotions to which his position gave occasion. And, as he spoke, forthe first time Pierre started, turning an eager gaze toward the box. 

"Yes, it's empty, " said the duke. "The necklace isn't there, is it? Now, tell me all about it, or I'll put a bullet through your head!"

Then the story came: disentangled from the excuses and prayers, it wassimply that Pierre was no footman but a noted thief--that he had longmeditated an attack on the Cardinal's Necklace; had made Lafleur'sacquaintance in Paris, corrupted his facile virtue, and, with the aid offorged testimonials, presented himself in the character in which I hadfirst made his acquaintance. The rascals had counted on the duke'spreoccupation with Marie Delhasse for their opportunity. The duke smiledto hear it. Pierre listened to the whole story without a word of protestor denial; his accomplice's cowardly attempt to present him as the onlyculprit gained no more notice than another shrug and a softly mutteredoath. "Destiny, " the little man seemed to say in the eloquent movement ofhis shoulders; while the growing light showed his beady eyes fixed, fulland unfaltering, on me. 

Lafleur's prayers died away. The duke, still smiling, set his pistolagainst the wretch's head. 

"That's what you deserve, " said he. 

And Lafleur, groveling, caught him by the knees. 

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" he implored. 

"Why not?" asked the duke, in the tone of a man willing to hear the otherside, but certain that he would not be convinced by it. "Why not? We findyou stealing--and we shoot you as you try to escape. I see nothingunnatural or illegal in it, Lafleur. Nor do I see anything in favor ofleaving you alive. "

And the pistol pressed still on Lafleur's forehead. Whether his mastermeant to shoot, I know not--although I believe he did. But Lafleur hadlittle doubt of his purpose; for he hastened to play his best card, and, clinging still to the duke's knees, cried desperately:

"If you'll spare me, I'll tell you where she is!"

The duke's arm fell to his side; and in a changed voice, from which thecruel bantering had fled, while eager excitement filled its place, hecried:

"What? Where who is?"

"The lady--Mlle. Delhasse. A girl I know--there in Avranches--saw her go. She is there now. "

"Where, man, where?" roared the duke, stamping his foot, and menacing thewretch again with his pistol. 

I turned to listen, forgetful of quiet little Pierre and his alert beadyeyes; yet I kept the pistol on him. 

And Lafleur cried:

"At the convent--at the convent, on the shores of the bay!"

"My God!" cried the duke, and his eyes suddenly turned and flashed onmine; and I saw that the necklace was forgotten, that our partnership wasended, and that I again, and no longer the cowering creature before him, was the enemy. And I also, hearing that Marie Delhasse was at the convent, was telling myself that I was a fool not to have thought of it before, andwondering what new impulse had seized the duke's wayward mind. 

Thus neither the duke nor I was attending to the business of the moment. But there was a man of busy brain, whose life taught him to profit by theslips of other men and to let pass no opportunities. Our carelessness gaveone now--a chance of escape, and a chance of something else too. For, while my negligent hand dropped to my side and my eyes were seeking toread the duke's face, the figure opposite me must have been moving. Softlymust a deft hand have crept to a pocket; softly came forth the hiddenweapon. There was a report loud and sudden; and then another. And with thefirst, Lafleur, who was kneeling at the duke's feet and looking up to seehow his shaft had sped, flung his arms wildly over his head, gave ashriek, and fell dead--his head, half-shattered, striking the iron box ashe fell sideways in a heap on the ground. 

The duke sprang back with an oath, whose sound was engulfed in the seconddischarge of Pierre's pistol: and I felt myself struck in the right arm;and my weapon fell to the ground, while I clutched the wounded limb withmy left hand. 

The duke, after a moment's hesitation and bewilderment, raised his pistoland fired; but the active little scoundrel was safe among the trees, andwe heard the twigs cracking and the leaves rustling as he pushed his waythrough the wood. He was gone--scot free for us, but with his score toLafleur well paid. I swayed where I stood, to and fro: the pain wasconsiderable, and things seemed to go round before my eyes; yet I turnedto my companion, crying:

"After him! He'll get off! I'm hit; I can't run!"

The duke stood still, frowning; then he slowly dropped his smoking pistolinto his pocket. For a moment longer he stood, and a smile broadened onhis face as he raised his eyes to me. 

"Let him, " he said briefly; and his glance rested on me for a moment indefiant significance. And then, without another word, he turned on hisheel. He took no heed of Lafleur's dead body, that seemed to fondle thebox, huddling it in a ghastly embrace, nor of me, who swayed and totteredand sank on the ground by the corpse. With set lips and eager eyes hepassed me, taking the road by which we had come. And I, hugging my woundedarm, with open eyes and parted lips, saw him dive in among the trees anddisappear toward the house. And I looked round on the iron box and thedead body--two caskets robbed of all that made them more than emptylumber. 

Minute followed minute; and then I heard the hoofs of a horse galloping atfull speed along the road from the house toward Avranches. Lafleur wasdead and done with; Pierre might go his ways; I lay fainting in the wood;the Cardinal's Necklace was still against my side. What recked the Duke ofSaint-Maclou of all that? I knew, as I heard the thud of the hoofs on theroad, that by the time the first reddening rays reached over the horizonhe would be at the convent, seeking the woman who was all the world tohim. 

And I sat there helpless, fearful of what would befall her. For what coulda convent full of women avail against his mastering rage? And a suddensharp pang ran through me, startling even myself in its intensity; so thatI cried out aloud, raising my sound arm in the air toward Heaven, like aman who swears a vow:

"By God, no! By God, no--no!"

CHAPTER XV. 

I Choose my Way. 

The dead man lay there, embracing the empty box that had brought him tohis death; and for many minutes I sat within a yard of him, detained bythe fascination and grim mockery of the picture no less than by physicalweakness and a numbness of my brain. My body refused to act, and my mindhardly urged its indolent servant. I was in sore distress for MarieDelhasse, --my vehement cry witnessed it, --yet I had not the will to moveto her aid; will and power both seemed to fail me. I could fear, I couldshrink with horror, but I could not act; nor did I move till theincreasing pain of my wound drove me, as it might any unintelligentcreature, to scramble to my feet and seek, half-blindly, for some placethat should afford shelter and succor. 

Leaving Lafleur and the box where they lay, a pretty spectacle for amoralist, I stumbled through the wood back to the path, and stood there inhelpless vacillation. At the house I should find better attendance, butold Jean's cottage was nearer. The indolence of weakness gained the day, and I directed my steps toward the cottage, thinking now, so far as I canrecollect, of none of the exciting events of the night nor even of whatthe future still held, but purely and wholly of the fact that in thecottage I should find a fire and a bed. The root-instincts of the naturalman--the primeval elementary wants--asserted their supremacy and claimed amonopoly of my mind, driving out all rival emotions, and with a mightysigh of relief and content I pushed open the door of the cottage, staggered across to the fire and sank down on the stool by it, thankingHeaven for so much, and telling myself that soon, very soon, I should feelstrong enough to make my way into the inner room and haul out Jean'spallet and set it by the fire and stretch my weary limbs, and, if the painof my wound allowed me, go to sleep. Beyond that my desires did not reach, and I forgot all my fears save the one dread that I was too weak for thedesired effort. Certainly it is hard for a man to think himself a hero!

I took no note of time, but I must have sat where I was for many minutes, before I heard someone moving in the inner room. I was very glad; ofcourse it was Jean, and Jean, I told myself with luxuriousself-congratulation, would bring the bed for me, and put something on mywound, and maybe give me a chink of some fine hot cognac that would spreadlife through my veins. Thus I should be comfortable and able to sleep, andforget all the shadowy people--they seemed but shadows half-real--that Ihad been troubling my brain about: the duke, and Marie, whose face dancedfor a moment before my eyes, and that dead fellow who hugged the box soludicrously. So I tried to call to Jean, but the trouble was too great, and, as he would be sure to come out soon, I waited; and I blinked at thesmoldering wood-ashes in the fire till my eyes closed and the sleep wasall but come, despite the smart of my arm and the ache in my unsupportedback. 

But just before I had forgotten everything the door of the inner roomcreaked and opened. My side was toward it and I did not look round. Iopened my eyes and feebly waved my left hand. Then a voice came, clear andfresh:

"Jean, is it you? Well, is the duke at the house?"

I must be dreaming; that was my immediate conviction, for the voice that Iheard was a voice I knew well, but one not likely to be heard here, inJean's cottage, at four o'clock in the morning. Decidedly I was dreaming, and as in order to dream a man must be asleep, I was pleased at the ideaand nodded happily, smiling and blinking in self-congratulation. But thatpleasant minute of illusion was my last; for the voice cried in tones toofull of animation, too void of dreamy vagueness, too real and actual tolet me longer set them down as made of my own brain:

"Heaven! Why, it's Mr. Aycon! How in the world do you come here?"

To feel surprise at the Duchess of Saint-Maclou doing anything which shemight please to do or being anywhere that the laws of Nature rendered itpossible she should be, was perhaps a disposition of mind of which Ishould have been by this time cured; yet I was surprised to find herstanding in the doorway that led from Jean's little bedroom dressed in aneat walking gown and a very smart hat, her hands clasped in the surprisewhich she shared with me and her eyes gleaming with an amused delightwhich found, I fear, no answer in my heavy bewildered gaze. 

"I'm getting warm, " said I at first, but then I made an effort to rousemyself. "I was a bit hurt, you know, " I went on; "that little villainPierre--"

"Hurt!" cried the duchess, springing forward. "How? Oh, my dear Mr. Aycon, how pale you are!"

After that remark of the duchess', I remember nothing which occurred for along while. In fact, just as I had apprehended that I was awake, that theduchess was real, and that it was most remarkable to find her in Jean'scottage, I fainted, and the duchess, the cottage, and everything elsevanished from sight and mind. 

When next I became part of the waking world I found myself on the sofa ofthe little room in the duke's house which I was beginning to know so well. I felt very comfortable: my arm was neatly bandaged, I wore a clean shirt. Suzanne was spreading a meal on the table, and the duchess, in a charmingmorning gown, was smiling at me and humming a tune. The clock on themantelpiece marked a quarter to eight. 

"Now I know all about it, " said the duchess, perceiving my revival. "I'veheard it all from Suzanne and Jean--or anyhow I can guess the rest. Andyou mustn't tire yourself by talking. I had you brought here so that youmight be well looked after; because we're so much indebted to you, youknow. "

"Is the duke here?" I asked. 

"Oh, dear, no; it's all right, " nodded the duchess. "I don't know--and Ido not care--where the duke is. Drink this milk, Mr. Aycon. Your arm's notvery bad, you know--Jean says it isn't, I mean--but you'd better have milkfirst, and something to eat when you feel stronger. "

The duchess appeared to be in excellent spirits. She caught up a bit oftoast from the table, poured out a cup of coffee, and, still moving about, began a light breakfast, with every sign of appetite and enjoyment. 

"You've come back?" said I, looking at her in persistent surprise. 

Suzanne put the cushions behind my back in a more comfortable position, smiled kindly on us, and left us. 

"Yes, " said the duchess, "I have for the present, Mr. Aycon. "

"But--but the duke--" I stammered. 

"I don't mind the duke, " said she. "Besides, he may not come. It's rathernice that you're just a little hurt. Don't you think so, Mr. Aycon? Just alittle, you know. "

"Why?" was all I found to say. The reason was not clear to me. 

"Why, in the first place, because you can't fight till your arm'swell--oh, yes, of course Armand was going to fight you--and, in the secondplace, you can and must stay here. There's no harm in it, while you'reill, you see; Armand can't say there is. It's rather funny, isn't it, Mr. Aycon?" and she munched a morsel of toast, and leaned her elbows on thetable and sent a sparkling glance across at me, for all the world as shehad done on the first night I knew her. The cares of the world did notgall the shoulders of Mme. De Saint-Maclou. 

"But why are you here?" said I, sticking to my point. 

The duchess set down the cup of coffee which she had been sipping. 

"I am not particular, " said she. "But I told the Mother Superior exactlywhat I told the duke. She wouldn't listen any more than he would. However, I was resolved; so I came here. I don't see where else I could go, do you, Mr. Aycon?"

"What did you tell the Mother?"

The duchess stretched one hand across the table, clenching her small fistand tapping gently with it on the cloth. 

"There is one thing that I will not do, Mr. Aycon, " said she, a touch ofred coming in her cheeks and her lips set in obstinate lines. "I don'tcare whether the house is my house or anybody else's house, or aninn--yes, or a convent either. But I will not be under the same roof withMarie Delhasse. "

And her declaration finished, the duchess nodded most emphatically, andturned to her cup again. 

The name of Marie Delhasse, shot forth from Mme. De Saint-Maclou's poutinglips, pierced the cloud that had seemed to envelop my brain. I sat up onthe sofa and looked eagerly at the duchess. 

"You saw her, then, at the convent?" I asked. 

"Yes, I met her in the chapel. Really, I should have expected to be safefrom her there. And the Mother would not turn her out!" And then theduchess, by a sudden transition, said to me, with a half-apologetic, halfchallenging smile: "You got my note, I suppose, Mr. Aycon?"

For a minute I regarded the duchess. And I smiled, and my smile turned toa laugh as I answered:

"Oh, yes! I got the note. "

"I meant it, " said she. "But I suppose I must forgive you now. You've beenso brave, and you're so much hurt. " And the duchess' eyes expressed agratifying admiration of my powers. 

I fingered my arm, which lay comfortably enough in the bandages and thesling that Suzanne's care had provided for it. And I rose to my feet. 

"Oh, you mustn't move!" cried the duchess, rising also and coming to whereI stood. 

"By Jove, but I must!" said I, looking at the clock. "The duke's got fourhours' start of me. "

"What do you want with my husband now?" she asked. "I don't see why youshould fight him; anyhow, you can't fight him till your arm is well. "

The duchess' words struck on my ear and her dainty little figure wasbefore my eyes, but my thoughts were absent from her. 

"Don't go, Mr. Aycon, " said she. 

"I must go, " I said. "By this time he'll be at the convent. "

A frown gathered on the duchess' face. 

"What concern is it of yours?" she asked. "I--I mean, what good can youdo?"

"I can hardly talk to you about it--" I began awkwardly; but the duchesssaved me the trouble of finishing my sentence, for she broke in angrily:

"Oh, as if I believe that! Mr. Aycon, why are you going?"

"I'm going to see that the duke doesn't--"

"Oh, you are very anxious--and very good, aren't you? Yes, and verychivalrous! Mr. Aycon, I don't care what he does;" and she looked at medefiantly. 

"But I do, " said I, and seeing my hat on the cabinet by the wall, I walkedacross the room and stretched out my hand for it. The duchess darted afterme and stood between my hat and me. 

"Why do you care?" she asked, with a stamp of her small foot. 

There were, no doubt, many most sound and plausible reasons forcaring--reasons independent of any private feelings of my own in regard toMarie Delhasse; but not one of them did I give to the duchess. I stoodbefore her, looking, I fear, very embarrassed, and avoiding her accusingeyes. 

Then the duchess flung her head back, and with passionate scorn said tome:

"I believe you're in love with the woman yourself!"

And to this accusation also I made no reply. 

"Are you really going?" she asked, her voice suddenly passing to a note ofentreaty. 

"I must go, " said I obstinately, callously, curtly. 

"Then go!" cried the duchess. "And never let me see you again!"

She moved aside, and I sprang forward and seized my hat. I took no noticeof the duchess, and, turning, I walked straight toward the door. Butbefore I reached it the duchess flung herself on the sofa and buried herface in the cushions. I would not leave her like that, so I stood andwaited; but my tongue still refused to find excuses, and still I was in afever to be off. 

But the duchess rose again and stood upright. She was rather pale and herlips quivered, but she held out her hand to me with a smile. And suddenlyI understood what I was doing, and that for the second time the proudlittle lady before me saw herself left and neglected for the sake of thatwoman whose presence made even a convent uninhabitable to her; and thebitter wound that her pride suffered was declared in her bearing and inthe pathetic effort at dignity which she had summoned up to hide her pain. Yet, although on this account I was sorry for her, I discerned nothingbeyond hurt pride, and was angry at the pride for the sake of MarieDelhasse, and when I spoke it was in defense of Marie Delhasse, and not incomfort to the duchess. 

"She is not what you think, " I said. 

The duchess drew herself up to her full height, making the most of herinches. 

"Really, Mr. Aycon, " said she, "you must forgive me if I do not discussthat. " And she paused, and then added, with a curl of her lip: "You and myhusband can settle that between you;" and with a motion of her hand shesigned to me to leave her. 

Looking back on the matter, I do not know that I had any reason to beashamed or to feel myself in any sort a traitor to the duchess. Yet somesuch feelings I had as I backed out of the room leaving her standing therein unwonted immobility, her eyes haughty and cold, her lips set, her gracecongealed to stateliness, her gay agility frozen to proud stiffness. 

And I left her thus standing in obedience to the potent yet still buthalf-understood spell which drew me from her side and would not suffer meto rest, while the Duke of Saint-Maclou was working his devices in thevalley beneath the town of Avranches. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Inn near Pontorson. 

The moment I found myself outside the house--and I must confess that, forreasons which I have indicated, it was a relief to me to find myselfthere--I hastened to old Jean's cottage. The old man was eating hisbreakfast; his stolidity was unshaken by the events of the night; hemanifested nothing beyond a mild satisfaction that the two rascals hadjustified his opinion of them, and a resigned regret that Pierre had notshared the fate of Lafleur. He told me that his inquiries after MarieDelhasse had been fruitless, and added that he supposed there would be apolice inquiry into the attempted robbery and the consequent death ofLafleur; indeed he was of opinion that the duke had gone to Avranches toarrange for it as much as to prosecute his search for Marie. I seized theopportunity to suggest that I should be a material witness, and urged himto give me one of the duke's horses to carry me to Avranches. He grumbledat my request, declaring that I should end by getting him into trouble;but a few francs overcame his scruples, and he provided me with a sturdyanimal, which I promised to bring or send back in the course of the day. 

Great as my impatience was, I was compelled to spend the first hour of myarrival at Avranches under the doctor's hands. He discovered to mysatisfaction that the bullet had not lodged in my arm and that my hurt wasno more than a flesh-wound, which would, if all went well, heal in a fewdays. He enjoined perfect rest and freedom from worry and excitement. Ithanked him, bowed myself out, mounted again, and rode to the hotel, whereI left my horse with instructions for its return to its owner. Then, at mybest speed, I hastened down the hill again, reached the grounds of theconvent, and approached the door. Perfect rest and freedom from excitementwere unattainable until I had learned whether Marie Delhasse was stillsafe within the old white walls which I saw before me; for, though I couldnot trace how the change in me had come, nor track its growth, I knew nowthat if she were there the walls held what was of the greatest moment tome in all the world, and that if she were not there the world was a hellto me until I found her. 

I was about to ring the bell, when from the gate of the burial-ground theMother Superior came at a slow pace. The old woman was frowning as shewalked, and her frown deepened at sight of me. But I, caring nothing forwhat she thought, ran up to her, crying before I had well reached her:

"Is Marie Delhasse still here?"

The Mother stopped dead, and regarded me with disapprobation. 

"What business is it of yours, sir, where the young woman is?" she asked. 

"I mean her no harm, " I urged eagerly. "If she is safe here, I ask to knowno more; I don't even ask to see her. Is she here? The Duchess ofSaint-Maclou told me that you refused to send her away. "

"God forbid that I should send away any sinner who will find refuge here, "she said solemnly. "You have seen the duchess?"

"Yes; she is at home. But Mlle. Delhasse?"

But the old woman would not be hurried. She asked again:

"What concern have you, sir, with Marie Delhasse?"

I looked her in the face as I answered plainly:

"To save her from the Duke of Saint-Maclou. "

"And from her own mother, sir?"

"Yes, above all from her own mother. "

The old woman started at my words; but there was no change in the levelcalm of her voice as she asked:

"And why would you rescue her?"

"For the same reason that any gentleman would, if he could. If you wantmore--"

She held up her hand to silence me; but her look was gentler and her voicesofter, as she said:

"You, sir, cannot save, and I cannot save, those who will not let Godhimself save them. "

"What do you mean?" I cried in a frenzy of fear and eagerness. 

"I had prayed for her, and talked with her. I thought I had seen grace inher. Well, I know not. It is true that she acted as her mother bade her. But I fear all is not well. "

"I pray you to speak plainly. Where is she?"

"I do not know where she is. What I know, sir, you shall know, for Ibelieve you come in honesty. This morning--some two hours ago--a carriagedrove from the town here. Mme. Delhasse was in it, and with her the Dukeof Saint-Maclou. I could not refuse to let the woman see her daughter. They spoke together for a time; and then they called me, and Marie--yes, Marie herself--begged me to let her see the duke. So they came here wherewe stand, and I stood a few yards off. They talked earnestly in low tones. And at last Marie came to me (the others remaining where they were), andtook my hand and kissed it, thanking me and bidding me adieu. I wasgrieved, sir, for I trusted that the girl had found peace here; and shewas in the way to make us love her. 'Does your mother bid you go?' Iasked, 'And will she save you from all harm?' And she answered: 'I go ofmy own will, Mother; but I go hoping to return. ' 'You swear that you go ofyour own will?' I asked. 'Yes, of my own will, ' she said firmly; but shewas near to weeping as she spoke. Yet what could I do? I could but tellher that our door--God's door--was never shut. That I told her; and with aheavy heart, being able to do nothing else, I let her go. I pray God noharm come of it. But I thought the man's face wore a look of triumph. "

"By Heaven, " I cried, "it shall not wear it for long! Which way did theygo?"

She pointed to the road by the side of the bay, leading away fromAvranches. 

"That way. I watched the carriage and its dust till I saw it no more, because of the wood that lies between here and the road. You pursue them, sir?"

"To the world's end, madame, if I must. "

She sighed and opened her lips to speak, but no words came; and withoutmore, I turned and left her, and set my face to follow the carriage. Iwas, I think, half-mad with anger and bewilderment, for I did not thinkthat it would be time well spent to ascend to the town and obtain avehicle or a horse; but I pressed on afoot, weary and in pain as I was, along the hot white road. For now indeed my heart was on fire, and I knewthat beside Marie Delhasse everything was nothing. So at firstimperceptibly, slowly, and unobserved, but at the last with a swiftresistless rush, the power of her beauty and of the soul that I had seemedto see in her won upon me; and that moment, when I thought that she hadyielded to her enemy and mine, was the flowering and bloom of my love forher. 

Where had they gone? Not to the duke's house, or I should have met them asI rode down earlier in the morning. Then where? France was wide, and theworld wider: my steps were slow. Where lay the use of the chase? In themiddle of the road, when I had gone perhaps a mile, I stopped dead. I wasbeaten and sick at heart, and I searched for a nook of shade by thewayside, and flung myself on the ground; and the ache of my arm was theleast of my pain. 

As I lay there, my eye caught sight of a cloud of dust on the road. For amoment I scanned it eagerly, and then fell back with a curse ofdisappointment. It was caused by a man on a horse--and the man was not theduke. But in an instant I was sitting up again--for as the rider drewnearer, trotting briskly along, his form and air was familiar to me; andwhen he came opposite to me, I sprang up and ran out to meet him, cryingout to him:

"Gustave! Gustave!"

It was Gustave de Berensac, my friend. He reined in his horse and greetedme--and he greeted me without surprise, but not without apparentdispleasure. 

"I thought I should find you here still, " said he. "I rode over to seekyou. Surely you are not at the duchess'?"

His tone was eloquent of remonstrance. 

"I've been staying at the inn. "

"At the inn?" he repeated, looking at me curiously. "And is the duchess athome?"

"She's at home now. How come you here?"

"Ah, my friend, and how comes your arm in a sling? Well, you shall have mystory first. I expect it will prove shorter. I am staying at Pontorsonwith a friend who is quartered there. "

"But you went to Paris. "

Gustave leaned clown to me, and spoke in a low impressive tone:

"Gilbert, " said he, "I've had a blow. The day after I got to Paris I heardfrom Lady Cynthia. She's going to be married to a countryman of yours. "

Gustave looked very doleful. I murmured condolence, though in truth Icared, just then, not a straw about the matter. 

"So, " he continued, "I seized the first opportunity for a little change. "

There was a pause. Gustave's mournful eye ranged over the landscape. Thenhe said, in a patient, sorrowful voice:

"You said the duchess was at home?"

"Yes, she's at home now. "

"Ah! I ask again, because as I passed the inn on the way between here andPontorson I saw in the courtyard--"

"Yes, yes, what?" cried I in sudden eagerness. 

"What's the matter, man? I saw a carriage with some luggage on it, and itlooked like the duke's, and--Hallo! Gilbert, where are you going?"

"I can't wait, I can't wait!" I called, already three or four yards away. 

"But I haven't heard how you got your arm--"

"I can't tell you now. I can't wait!"

My lethargy had vanished; I was hot to be on my way again. 

"Is the man mad?" he cried; and he put his horse to a quick walk to keepup with me. 

I stopped short. 

"It would take all day to tell you the story, " I said impatiently. 

"Still I should like to know--"

"I can't help it. Look here, Gustave, the duchess knows. Go and see her. Imust go on now. "

Across the puzzled mournful eyes of the rejected lover and bewilderedfriend I thought I saw a little gleam. 

"The duchess?" said he. 

"Yes, she's all alone. The duke's not there. "

"Where is the duke?" he asked; but, as it struck me, now rather inprecaution than in curiosity. 

"That's what I'm going to see, " said I. 

And with hope and resolution born again in my heart I broke into a fairrun, and, with a wave of my hand, left Gustave in the middle of the road, staring after me and plainly convinced that I was mad. Perhaps I was notfar from that state. Mad or not, in any case after three minutes I thoughtno more of my good friend Gustave de Berensac, nor of aught else, save theinn outside Pontorson, just where the old road used to turn toward MontSt. Michel. To that goal I pressed on, forgetting my weariness and mypain. For it might be that the carriage would still stand in the yard, andthat in the house I should come upon the object of my search. 

Half an hour's walk brought me to the inn, and there, to my joy, I saw thecarriage drawn up under a shed side by side with the inn-keeper's marketcart. The horses had been taken out; there was no servant in sight. Iwalked up to the door of the inn and passed through it. And I called forwine. 

A big stout man, wearing a blouse, came out to meet me. The inn was alarge one, and the inn-keeper was evidently a man of some consideration, although he wore a blouse. But I did not like the look of him, for he hadshifty eyes and a bloated face. Without a word he brought me what Iordered and set it down in a little room facing the stable yard. 

"Whose carriage is that under your shed?" I asked, sipping my wine. 

"It is the carriage of the Duke of Saint-Maclou, sir, " he answered readilyenough. 

"The duke is here, then?"

"Have you business with him, sir?"

"I did but ask you a simple question, " said I. "Ah! what's that? Who'sthat?"

I had been looking out of the window, and my sudden exclamation was causedby this--that the door of a stable which faced me had opened very gently, and but just wide enough to allow a face to appear for an instant and thendisappear. And it seemed to me that I knew the face, although the sight ofit had been too short to make me sure. 

"What did you see, sir?" asked the inn-keeper. (The name on his signboardwas Jacques Bontet. )

I turned and faced him full. 

"I saw someone look out of the stable, " said I. 

"Doubtless the stable-boy, " he answered; and his manner was so ordinary, unembarrassed, and free from alarm, that I doubted whether my eyes had notplayed me a trick, or my imagination played one upon my eyes. 

Be that as it might, I had no time to press my host further at thatmoment; for I heard a step behind me and a voice I knew saying:

"Bontet, who is this gentleman?"

I turned. In the doorway of the room stood the Duke of Saint-Maclou. Hewas in the same dress as when he had parted from me; he was dusty, hisface was pale, and the skin had made bags under his eyes. But he stoodlooking at me composedly, with a smile on his lips. 

"Ah!" said he, "it is my friend Mr. Aycon. Bontet, bring me some wine, too, that I may drink with my friend. " And he added, addressing me: "Youwill find our good Bontet most obliging. He is a tenant of mine, and hewill do anything to oblige me and my friends. Isn't it so, Bontet?"

The fellow grunted a surly and none too respectful assent, and left theroom to fetch the duke his wine. Silence followed on his departure forsome seconds. Then the duke came up to where I stood, folded his arms, andlooked me full in the face. 

"It is difficult to lose the pleasure of your company, sir, " he said. 

"If you will depart from here alone, " I retorted, "you shall find it theeasiest thing in the world. For, in truth, it is not desire for yoursociety that brings me here. "

He lifted a hand and tugged at his mustache. 

"You have, perhaps, been to the convent?" he hazarded. 

"I have just come from there, " I rejoined. 

"I am not an Englishman, " said he, curling the end of the mustache, "and Ido not know how plain an intimation need be to discourage one of yourresolute race. For my part, I should have thought that when a lady acceptsthe escort of one gentleman, it means that she does not desire that ofanother. "

He said this with a great air and an assumption of dignity that contrastedstrongly with the unrestrained paroxysms of the night before. I take itthat success--or what seems such--may transform a man as though it changedhis very skin. But I was not skilled to cross swords with him in talk ofthat kind, so I put my hands in my pockets and leaned against the shutterand said bluntly:

"God knows what lies you told her, you see. "

His white face suddenly flushed; but he held himself in and retorted witha sneer:

"A disabled right arm gives a man fine courage. "

"Nonsense!" said I. "I can aim as well with my left;" and that indeed wasnot very far from the truth. And I went on: "Is she here?"

"Mme. And Mlle. Delhasse are both here, under my escort. "

"I should like to see Mlle. Delhasse, " I observed. 

He answered me in low tones, but with the passion in him closer to thesurface now and near on boiling up through the thin film of hisself-restraint:

"So long as I live, you shall never see her. "

But I cared not, for my heart leaped in joy at his words. They meant to methat he dared not let me see her; that, be the meaning of her consent togo with him what it might, yet he dared not match his power over heragainst mine. And whence came the power he feared? It could be mine onlyif I had touched her heart. 

"I presume she may see whom she will, " said I still carelessly. 

"Her mother will protect her from you with my help. "

There was silence for a minute. Then I said:

"I will not leave here without seeing her. "

And a pause followed my words till the duke, fixing his eyes on mine, answered significantly:

"If you leave here alive to-night, you are welcome to take her with you. "

I understood, and I nodded my head. 

"My left arm is as sound as yours, " he added; "and, maybe, betterpracticed. "

Our eyes met again, and the agreement was sealed. The duke was about tospeak again, when a sudden thought struck me. I put my hand in my pocketand drew out the Cardinal's Necklace. And I flung it on the table beforeme, saying:

"Let me return that to you, sir. "

The duke stood regarding the necklace for a moment, as it lay gleaming andglittering on the wooden table in the bare inn parlor. Then he stepped upto the table, but at the moment I cried:

"You won't steal her away before--before--"

"Before we fight? I will not, on my honor. " He paused and added: "Forthere is one thing I want more even than her. "

I could guess what that was. 

And then he put out his hand, took up the necklace, and thrust itcarelessly into the pocket of his coat. And looking across the room, I sawthe inn-keeper, Jacques Bontet, standing in the doorway and staring withall his eyes at the spot on the table where the glittering thing had for amoment lain; and as the fellow set down the wine he had brought for theduke, I swear that he trembled as a man who has seen a ghost; for hespilled some of the wine and chinked the bottle against the glass. Butwhile I stared at him, the duke lifted his glass and bowed to me, saying, with a smile and as though he jested in some phrase of extravagantfriendship for me:

"May nothing less than death part you and me?"

And I drank the toast with him, saying "Amen. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Reluctant Intrusion. 

As Bontet the inn-keeper set the wine on the table before the Duke ofSaint-Maclou, the big clock in the hall of the inn struck noon. It isstrange to me, even now when the story has grown old in my memory, torecall all that happened before the hands of that clock pointed again totwelve. And last year when I revisited the neighborhood and found a neatnew house standing on the site of the ramshackle inn, I could not pass bywithout a queer feeling in my throat; for it was there that the results ofthe duchess' indiscretion finally worked themselves out to theirunexpected, fatal, and momentous ending. Seldom, as I should suppose, hassuch a mixed skein of good and evil, of fatality and happiness, been spunfrom material no more substantial than a sportive lady's idle freak. 

"By the way, Mr. Aycon, " said the duke, after we had drunk our toast, "Ihave had a message from the magistrate at Avranches requesting ourpresence to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock. An inquiry has to be heldinto the death of that rascal Lafleur, and our evidence must be taken. Itis a mere formality, the magistrate is good enough to assure me, and Ihave assured him that we shall neither of us allow anything to interferewith our waiting on him, if we can possibly do so. "

"I could have sent no other message myself, " said I. 

"I will also, " continued the duke, "send word by Bontet here to those twofriends of mine at Pontorson. It would be dull for you to dine alone withme, and, as the evening promises to be fine, I will ask them to be here byfive o'clock, and we will have a stroll on the sands and a nearer look atthe Mount before our meal. They are officers who are quartered there. "

"Their presence, " said I, "will add greatly to the pleasure of theevening. "

"Meanwhile, if you will excuse me, I shall take an hour or two's rest. Wemissed our sleep last night, and we should wish to be fresh when ourguests arrive. If I might advise you--"

"I am about to breakfast, after that I may follow your advice. "

"Ah, you've not breakfasted? You can't do better, then. _Au revoir_;" andwith a bow he left me, calling to Bontet to follow him upstairs and waitfor the note which was to go to the officers at Pontorson. It must beadmitted that the duke conducted the necessary arrangements with muchtact. 

In a quarter of an hour my breakfast was before me, and I seated myselfwith my back to the door and my face to the window. I had plenty to thinkabout as I ate; but my chief anxiety was by some means to obtain aninterview with Marie Delhasse, not with a view to persuading her toattempt escape with me before the evening--for I had made up my mind thatthe issue with the duke must be faced now, once for all--but in the hopeof discovering why she had allowed herself to be persuaded into leavingthe convent. Until I knew that, I was a prey to wretched doubts anddespondency, which even my deep-seated confidence in her could notovercome. Fortunately I had a small sum of money in my pocket, and I feltsure that Bontet's devotion to the duke would not be proof against anadequate bribe: perhaps he would be able to assist me in eluding thevigilance of Madame Delhasse and obtaining speech with her daughter. 

Bontet, detained as I supposed by the duke, had left a kitchen-girl toattend on me; but I soon saw him come out into the yard, carrying a letterin his hand. He walked slowly across to the stable door, at which theface, suddenly presented and withdrawn, had caught my attention. Hestopped before the door a moment, then the door opened. I could not seewhether he opened it or whether it was unlocked from within, for his burlyframe obstructed my view; but the pause was long enough to show that morethan the lifting of a latch was necessary. And that I thought worthnotice. The door closed after Bontet. I rose, opened my window andlistened; but the yard was broad and no sound reached me from the stable. 

I waited there five minutes perhaps. The inn-keeper did not reappear, so Ireturned to my place. I had finished my meal before he came out. This timeI was tolerably sure that the door was closed behind him by another hand, and I fancied that I heard the click of a lock. Also I noticed that theletter was no longer visible--of course, he might have put it in hispocket. Jumping up suddenly as though I had just chanced to notice him, Iasked him if he were off to Pontorson, or, if not, had he a moment forconversation. 

"I am going in a few minutes, sir, " he answered; "but I am at your servicenow. "

The words were civil enough, but his manner was surly and suspicious. Lighting a cigarette, I sat down on the window-sill, while he stood justoutside. 

"I want a bedroom, " said I. "Have you one for me?"

"I have given you the room on the first floor, immediately opposite thatof the duke. "

"Good. And where are the ladies lodged?"

He made no difficulty about giving me an answer. 

"They have a sitting room on the first floor, " he answered, "but hithertothey have not used it. They have two bedrooms, connected by an interiordoor, on the second floor, and they have not left them since theirarrival. "

"Has the duke visited them there?"

"I don't think he has seen them. They had a conversation on theirarrival;" and the fellow grinned. 

Now was my time. I took a hundred-franc note out of my pocket and held itin my hand so that he could see the figures on it. I hoped that he wouldnot be exorbitant, for I had but one more and some loose napoleons in mypocket. 

"What was the conversation about?" I asked. 

He put out his hand for the note; but I kept my grasp on it. Honesty wasnot written large--no, nor plain to read--on Bontet's fat face. 

"I heard little of it; but the young lady said, as they hurried upstairs:'Where is he? Where is he?'"

"Yes, yes!"

And I held out the note to him. He had earned it. And greedily he clutchedit, and stowed it in his breeches pocket under his blouse. 

"I heard no more; they hurried her up; the old lady had her by one arm andthe duke by the other. She looked distressed--why, I know not; for Isuppose"--here a sly grin spread over the fellow's face--"that the prettypresent I saw is for her. "

"It's the property of the duke, " I said. 

"But gentlemen sometimes make presents to ladies, " he suggested. 

"It may be his purpose to do so. Bontet, I want to see the young lady. "

He laughed insolently, kicking his toe against the wall. 

"What use, unless you have a better present, sir? But it's nothing to me. If you can manage it, you're welcome. "

"But how am I to manage it? Come, earn your money, and perhaps you'll earnmore. "

"You're liberal, sir;" and he stared at me as though he were trying tolook into my pocket and see how much money was there. I was glad that hisglance was not so penetrating. "But I can't help you. Stay, though. Theold lady has ordered coffee for two in the sitting-room, and bids me rousethe duke when it is ready: so perhaps the young lady will be left alonefor a time. If you could steal up--"

I was not in the mood to stand on a punctilio. My brain was kindled byMarie's words, "Where is he?" Already I was searching for their meaningand finding what I wished. If I could see her, and learn the longed-fortruth from her, I should go in good heart to my conflict with the duke. 

"Go to your room, " said Bontet, whom my prospective _largesse_ hadpersuaded to civility and almost to eagerness, "and wait. If madame andthe duke go there, I'll let you know. But you must risk meeting them. "

"I don't mind about that, " said I; and, in truth, nothing could make myrelations with the pair more hostile than they were already. 

My business with Bontet was finished; but I indulged my curiosity for amoment. 

"You have a good stable over there, I see, " I remarked. "How many horseshave you there?"

The fellow turned very red: all signs of good humor vanished from hisface; my bribe evidently gave me no right to question him on that subject. 

"There are no horses there, " he grunted. "The horses are in the new stablefacing the road. This one is disused. "

"Oh, I saw you come out from there, and I thought--"

"I keep some stores there, " he said sullenly. 

"And that's why it's kept locked?" I asked at a venture. 

"Precisely, sir, " he replied. But his uneasy air confirmed my suspicionsas to the stable. It hid some secret, I was sure. Nay, I began to be surethat my eyes had not played me false, and that I had indeed seen the faceI seemed to see. If that were so, friend Bontet was playing a double gameand probably enjoying more than one paymaster. 

However, I had no leisure to follow that track, nor was I much concernedto attempt the task. The next day would be time--if I were alive the nextday: and I cared little if the secret were never revealed. It was nothingto me--for it never crossed my mind that fresh designs might be hatched inthe stable. Dismissing the matter, I did as Bontet advised, and walkedupstairs to my room; and as luck would have it, I met Mme. Delhasse plumpon the landing, she being on her way to the sitting room. I bowed low. Madame gave me a look of hatred and passed by me. As she displayed nosurprise, it was evident that the duke had carried or sent word of myarrival. I was not minded to let her go without a word or two. 

"Madame--" I began; but she was too quick for me. She burst out in atorrent of angry abuse. Her resentment, dammed so long for want ofopportunity, carried her away. To speak soberly and by the card, the womanwas a hideous thing to see and hear; for in her wrath at me, she sparednot to set forth in unshamed plainness her designs, nor to declare of whatrewards, promised by the duke, my interference had gone near to rob herand still rendered uncertain. Her voice rose, for all her efforts to keepit low, and she mingled foul words of the duchess and of me with scornfulcurses on the virtue of her daughter. I could say nothing; I stood therewondering that such creatures lived, amazed that Marie Delhasse must callsuch an one her mother. 

Then in the midst of her tirade, the duke, roused without Bontet's help, came out of his room, and waited a moment listening to the flow of thetorrent. And, strange as it seemed, he smiled at me and shrugged hisshoulders, and I found myself smiling also; for disgusting as the womanwas, she was amusing, too. And the duke went and caught her by theshoulder and said:

"Come, don't be silly, mother. We can settle our accounts with Mr. Ayconin another way than this. "

His touch and words seemed to sober her--or perhaps her passion had runits course. She turned to him, and her lips parted with a smile, a cunningand--if my opinion be asked--loathsome smile; and she caressed the lapelof his coat with her hand. And the duke, who was smoking, smoked on, sothat the smoke blew in her face, and she coughed and choked: whereat theduke also smiled. He set the right value on his instrument, and tookpleasure in showing how he despised her. 

"My dear, dear duke, I have such news for you--such news?" she said, ignoring, as perforce she must, his rudeness. "Come in here, and leavethat man. "

At this the duke suddenly bent forward, his scornful, insolent tolerationgiving place to interest. 

"News?" he cried, and he drew her toward the door to which she had beengoing, neither of them paying any more attention to me. And the doorclosed upon them. 

The duke had not needed Bontet's rousing. I did not need Bontet to tell methat the coast was clear. With a last alert glance at the door, I trodsoftly across the landing and reached the stairs by which Mlle. Delhassehad descended. Gently I mounted, and on reaching the top of the flightfound a door directly facing me. I turned the handle, but the door waslocked. I rattled the handle cautiously--and then again, and again. Andpresently I heard a light, timid, hesitating step inside; and through thedoor came, in the voice of Marie Delhasse:

"Who's there?"

And I answered at once, boldly, but in a low voice:

"It is I. Open the door. "

She, in her turn, knew my voice; for the door was opened, and MarieDelhasse stood before me, her face pale with weariness and sorrow, and hereyes wide with wonder. She drew back before me, and I stepped in and shutthe door, finding myself in a rather large, sparely furnished room. A dooropposite was half-open. On the bed lay a bonnet and a jacket whichcertainly did not belong to Marie. 

Most undoubtedly I had intruded into the bedchamber of that highlyrespectable lady, Mme. Delhasse. I can only plead that the circumstanceswere peculiar. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Strange Good Humor. 

For a moment Marie Delhasse stood looking at me; then she uttered a lowcry, full of relief, of security, of joy; and coming to me stretched outher hands, saying:

"You are here then, after all!"

Charmed to see how she greeted me, I had not the heart to tell her thather peril was not past; nor did she give me the opportunity, for went ondirectly:

"And you are wounded? But not badly, not badly, Mr. Aycon?"

"Who told you I was wounded?"

"Why, the duke. He said that you had been shot by a thief, and were verybadly hurt; and--and--" She stopped, blushing. 

("Where is he?" I remembered the words; my forecast of their meaning hadbeen true. )

"And did what he told you, " I asked softly, "make you leave the conventand come to find me?"

"Yes, " she answered, taking courage and meeting my eyes. "And then youwere not here, and I thought it was a trap. "

"You were right; it was a trap. I came to find you at the convent, but youwere gone: only by the chance of meeting with a friend who saw the duke'scarriage standing here have I found you. "

"You were seeking for me?"

"Yes, I was seeking for you. "

I spoke slowly, as though hours were open for our talk; but suddenly Iremembered that at any moment the old witch might return. And I had muchto say before she came. 

"Marie--" I began eagerly, never thinking that the name she had come tobear in my thoughts could be new and strange from my lips. But the momentI had uttered it I perceived what I had done, for she drew back further, gazing at me with inquiring eyes, and her breath seemed arrested. Then, answering the question in her eyes, I said simply:

"For what else am I here, Marie?" and I caught her hand in my left hand. 

She stood motionless, still silently asking what I would. And I kissed herhand. And again the low cry, lower still--half a cry and half a sigh--camefrom her, and she drew timidly nearer to me; and I drew her yet nearer, whispering, in a broken word or two, that I loved her. 

But she, still dazed, looked up at me, whispering, "When, when?"

And I could not tell her when I had come to love her, for I did not knowthen--nor can I recollect now; nor have I any opinion about it, save thatit speaks ill for me that it was not when first I set my eyes upon her. But she doubted, remembering that I had seemed fancy-struck with thelittle duchess, and cold, maybe stern, to her; and because, I think, sheknew that I had seen her tempted. And to silence her doubts, I kissed herlips. She did not return my kiss, but stood with wondering eyes. Then inan instant a change came over her face. I felt her press my hand, and foran instant or two her lips moved, but I heard no words, nor do I thinkthat the unheard words were for my ear; and I bowed my head. 

Yet time pressed. Again I collected my thoughts from this sweetreverie--wherein what gave me not least joy was the perfect trust sheshowed in me, for that is perhaps the one thing in this world that a manmay be proud to win--and said to her:

"Marie, you must listen. I have something to tell you. "

"Oh, you'll take me away from them?" she cried, clutching my hand in bothof hers. 

"I can't now, " I answered. "You must be brave. Listen: if I try to takeyou away now, it may be that I should be killed and you left defenseless. But this evening you can be safe, whatever befalls me. "

"Why, what should befall you?" she asked, with a swift movement thatbrought her closer to me. 

I had to tell her the truth, or my plan for her salvation would not becarried out. 

"To-night I fight the duke. Hush! hush! Yes, I must fight with theduke--yes, wounded arm, my darling, notwithstanding. We shall leave hereabout five and go down to the bay toward the Mount, and there on the sandswe shall fight. And--listen now--you must follow us, about half an hourafter we have gone. "

"But they will not let me go. "

"Go you must. Marie, here is a pistol. Take it; and if anyone stops you, use it. But I think none will; for the duke will be with me, and I do notthink Bontet will interfere. "

"But my mother?"

"You are as strong as she. "

"Yes, yes, I'll come. You'll be on the sands; I'll come!" The help she hadfound in me made her brave now. 

"You will get there as we are fighting or soon after. Do not look for meor for the duke, but look for two gentlemen whom you do not know, theywill be there--French officers--and to their honor you must trust. "

"But why not to you?"

"If I am alive and well, I shall not fail you; but if I come not, go tothem and demand their protection from the duke, telling them how he hassnared you here. And they will not suffer him to carry you off againstyour will. Do you see? Do you understand?"

"Yes, I see. But must you fight?"

"Yes, dear, I must fight. The duke will not trouble you again, I think, before the evening; and if you remember what I have told you, all will bewell. "

So I tried to comfort her, believing as I did that no two French gentlemenwould desire or dare to refuse her their protection against the duke. Butshe was clinging to me now, in great distress that I must fight--andindeed I had rather have fought at another time myself--and in freshterror of her mother's anger, seeing that I should not be there to bear itfor her. 

"For, " she said, "we have had a terrible quarrel just before you came. Itold her that unless I saw you within an hour nothing but force shouldkeep me here, and that if they kept me here by force, I would find meansto kill myself; and that I would not see nor speak to the duke unless hebrought me to you, according to his promise; and that if he sent hisnecklace again--for he sent it here half an hour ago--I would not send itback as I did then, but would fling it out of the window yonder into thecattle pond, where he could go and fetch it out himself. "

And my dearest Marie, finding increased courage from reciting hercourageous speech, and from my friendly hearing of it, raised her voice, and her eyes flashed, so that she looked yet more beautiful; and again didI forget inexorable time. But it struck me that there was small wonderthat Mme. Delhasse's temper had not been of the best nor calculated toendure patiently such a vexatious encounter as befell her when she ranagainst me on the landing outside her door. 

Yet Marie's courage failed again; and I told her that before we fought Iwould tell my second of her state, so that if she came not and I werewounded (of worse I did not speak), he would come to the inn and bring herto me. And this comforted her more, so that she grew calmer, and, passingfrom our present difficulties, she gave herself to persuading me (norwould the poor girl believe that I needed no persuading) that in no casewould she have yielded to the duke, and that her mother had left her inwrath born of an utter despair that Marie's will in the matter could everbe broken down. 

"For I told her, " Marie repeated, "that I would sooner die!"

She paused, and raising her eyes to mine, said to me (and here I thinkcourage was not lacking in her):

"Yes, although once I had hesitated, now I had rather die. For when Ihesitated, God sent you to my door, that in love I might find salvation. "

Well, I do not know that a man does well to describe all that passes attimes like this. There are things rather meet to be left dwelling in hisown heart, sweetening all his life, and causing him to marvel that sinnershave such joys conceded to them this side of Heaven; so that in theirrecollection he may find, mingling with his delight, an occasion forhumility such as it little harms any of us to light on now and then. 

Enough then--for the telling of it; but enough in the passing of it therewas not nor could be. Yet at last, because needs must when the devil--or ason--aye, or an elderly daughter of his--drives, I found myself outsidethe door of Mme. Delhasse's room. With the turning of the lock Mariewhispered a last word to me, and full of hope I turned to descend thestairs. For I had upon me the feeling which, oftener perhaps than wethink, gave to the righteous cause a victory against odds when ordeal ofbattle held sway. Now, such a feeling is, I take it, of small use in acourt of law. 

But Fortune lost no time in checking my presumption by an accident whichat first gave me great concern. For, even as I turned away from the doorof the room, there was Mme. Delhasse coming up the stairs. I was fairlycaught, there was no doubt about it; and for Marie's sake I was deeplygrieved, for I feared that my discovery would mean another stormy scenefor her. Nevertheless, to make the best of it, I assumed a jaunty air as Isaid to Mlle. Delhasse:

"The duke will be witness that you were not in your room, madame. You willnot be compromised. "

I fully expected that an outburst of anger would follow on this pleasantryof mine--which was, I confess, rather in the taste best suited to Mme. Delhasse than in the best as judged by an abstract standard--but to mysurprise the old creature did nothing worse than bestow on me a sour grin. Apparently, if I were well-pleased with the last half-hour, she had foundtime pass no less pleasantly. All traces of her exasperation and ill humorhad gone, and she looked as pleased and contented as though she had beenan exemplary mother, rewarded (as such deserve to be) by complete love andpeace in her family circle. 

"You've been slinking in behind my back, have you?" she asked, but stillwith a grin. 

"It would have been rude to force an entrance to your face, " I observed. 

"And I suppose you've been making love to the girl?"

"At the proper time, madame, " said I, with much courtesy, "I shall nodoubt ask you for an interview with regard to that matter. I shall omit norespect that you deserve. "

As I spoke, I stood on one side to let her pass. I cannot make up my mindwhether her recent fury or her present good humor repelled me more. 

"You'd have a fine fool for a wife, " said she, with a jerk of her thumbtoward the room where the daughter was. 

"I should be compensated by a very clever mother-in-law, " said I. 

The old woman paused for an instant at the top of the stairs, and lookedme up and down. 

"Aye, " said she, "you men think yourselves mighty clever, but a woman getsthe better of you all now and then. "

I was utterly puzzled by her evident exultation. The duke could not haveconsented to accept her society in place of her daughter's; but I riskedthe impropriety and hazarded the suggestion to Mme. Delhasse. Her facecurled in cunning wrinkles. She seemed to be about to speak, but then sheshut her lips with a snap, and suspicion betrayed itself again in hereyes. She had a secret--a fresh secret--I could have sworn, and in hertriumph she had come near to saying something that might have cast lighton it. 

"By the way, " I said, "your daughter did not expect my coming. " It wasperhaps a vain hope, but I thought that I might save Marie from a tirade. 

The old woman shrugged her shoulders, and observed carelessly:

"The fool may do what she likes;" and with this she knocked at the door. 

I did not wait to see it opened--to confess the truth, I felt not sure ofmy temper were I forced to see her and Marie together--but went downstairsand into my own room. There I sat down in a chair by the window close to asmall table, for I meant to write a letter or two to friends at home, incase the duke's left hand should prove more skillful than mine when we metthat evening. But, finding that I could hardly write with my right handand couldn't write at all with the other, I contented myself withscrawling laboriously a short note to Gustave de Berensac, which I put inmy pocket, having indorsed on it a direction for its delivery in case Ishould meet with an accident. Then I lay back in my chair, regretting, Irecollect, that, as my luggage was left at Avranches, I had not a cleanshirt to fight in; and then, becoming drowsy, I began to stare idly alongthe road in front of the window, rehearsing the events of the last fewdays in my mind, but coming back to Marie Delhasse. 

So an hour passed away. Then I rose and stretched myself, and gave aglance out of the window to see if we were likely to have a fine eveningfor our sport, for clouds had been gathering up all day. And when I hadmade up my mind that the rain would hold off long enough for our purpose, I looked down at the road again, and there I saw two figures which I knew. From the direction of Pontorson came Jacques Bontet the inn-keeper, slouching along and smoking a thin black cigar. 

"Ah! he has been to deliver the note to our friends the officers, " said Ito myself. 

And then I looked at the other familiar figure, which was that of Mme. Delhasse. She wore the bonnet and cloak which had been lying on the bed inher room at the time of my intrusion. She was just leaving the premises ofthe inn strolling, nay dawdling, along. She met Bontet and stopped for amoment in conversation with him. Then she pursued her leisurely walk inthe direction of Pontorson, and I watched her till she was about threehundred yards off. But her form had no charms, and, growing tired of theprospect, I turned away remarking to myself:

"I suppose the old lady wants just a little stroll before dinner. "

Nor did I see any reason to be dissatisfied with either of myinferences--at the moment. So I disturbed myself no more, but rang thebell and ordered some coffee and a little glass of the least bad brandy inthe inn. For it could not be long before I was presented with the Duke ofSaint-Maclou's compliments and an intimation that he would be glad to havemy company on a walk in the cool of the evening. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Unsummoned Witnesses. 

Slowly the afternoon wore away. My content had given place to urgentimpatience, and I longed every moment for the summons to action. Nonecame; and a quarter to five I went downstairs, hoping to find some meansof whiling away the interval of time. Pushing open the door of the little_salle-à-manger_, I was presented with a back view of my host M. Bontet, who was leaning out of the window. Just as I entered, he shouted "Ready atsix!" Then he turned swiftly round, having, I suppose, heard my entrance;at the same moment, the sound of a door violently slammed struck on my earacross the yard. I moved quickly up to the window. The stable door wasshut; and Bontet faced me with a surly frown on his brow. 

"What is to be ready at six?" I asked. 

"Some refreshments for Mme. Delhasse, " he answered readily. 

"You order refreshments from the stable?"

"I was shouting to the scullery: the door is, as you will perceive, sir, there to the left. "

Now I knew that this was a lie, and I might very likely have said as much, had not the Duke of Saint-Maclou at this moment come into the room. Hebowed to me, but addressed himself to Bontet. 

"Well, are the gentlemen to be here at five?" he asked. 

Bontet, with an air of relief, began an explanation. One of thegentlemen--M. De Vieuville, he believed--had read out the note in hispresence, and had desired him to tell the duke that he and the othergentleman would meet the duke and his friend on the sands at a quarter tosix. They would be where the road ceased and the sand began at that hour. 

"He seems to think, " Bontet explained, "that less attention would thus bedirected to the affair. "

The precaution seemed wise enough; but why had M. De Vieuville takenBontet so much into his confidence? The same thought struck the duke, forhe asked sharply:

"Why did he read the note to you?"

"Oh, he thought nothing of that, " said Bontet easily. "The gentlemen atPontorson know me very well: several affairs have been arranged from thishouse. "

"You ought to keep a private cemetery, " said the duke with a grim smile. 

"The sands are there, " laughed the fellow, with a wave of his hand. 

Nobody appeared to desire to continue this cheerful conversation, andsilence fell upon us for some moments. Then the duke observed:

"Bontet, I want you for a few minutes. Mr. Aycon, shall you be ready tostart in half an hour? Our friends will probably bring pistols: failingthat, I can provide you, if you have no objection to using mine. "

I bowed, and they left me alone. And then, having nothing better to do, Ilit a cigar, vaulted out of the window, and strolled toward the stable. Mycuriosity about the stable had been growing rapidly. I cast a glanceround, and saw nobody in the yard. Then, with a careless air, I turned thehandle of the door. Nothing occurred. I turned it more violently; stillnothing happened. I bent down suddenly and looked through the keyhole. AndI saw--not a key, but--an eye! And for ten seconds I looked at the eye. Then the eye disappeared; and I heard that little unmistakable "click. "The eye had a pistol--and had cocked it! Was that because it saw throughthe keyhole strange garments, instead of the friendly bright blue ofBontet's blouse? And why had the eye such a dislike to strangers? Istraightened myself again and took a walk along the length of the stable, considering these questions and, incidentally, looking for a window; butthe only window was a clear four feet above my head. 

I am puzzled even now to say whether I regret not having listened to thesuspicion that was strong in my breast. Had I forecast, in the leastdegree, the result of my neglecting to pay heed to its warning, I shouldnot have hesitated for a moment. But in the absence of such a presage, Ifelt rather indifferent about the matter. My predominant desire was toavoid the necessity of postponing the settlement of the issue between theduke and myself; and a delay to that must needs follow, if I took actionin regard to the stable. Moreover, why should I stir in the matter? I hada right to waive any grievance of my own; for the rest, it seemed to methat justice was not much concerned in the matter; the merits or demeritsof the parties were, in my view, pretty equal; and I questioned theobligation to incur, not only the delay which I detested, but, in allprobability, a very risky adventure in a cause which I had very little atheart. 

If "the eye" could, by being "ready at six, " get out of the stable whilethe duke and I were engaged otherwise and elsewhere, why--"Let him, " saidI, "and go to the devil his own way. He's sure to get there at last!" So Ireasoned--or perhaps, I should rather say, so I felt; and I must repeatthat I find it difficult now to be very sorry that my mood was what itwas. 

My half hour was passing. I crossed back to the window and got in again. The duke, whose impatience rivaled my own, was waiting for me. A case ofpistols lay on the table and, having held them up for me to see, heslipped them inside his coat. 

"Are you ready, sir?" he asked. "We may as well be starting. "

I bowed and motioned him to precede me. He also, in spite of hisimpatience, seemed to me to be in a better humor than earlier in the day. The interview with Mme. Delhasse must have been satisfactory to bothparties. Had not his face showed me the improvement in his temper, hisfirst words after we left the premises of the inn (at a quarter past fiveexactly) would have declared it; for he turned to me and said:

"Look here, Mr. Aycon. You're running a great risk for nothing. Be asensible man. Go back to Avranches, thence to Cherbourg, and thence towhere you live--and leave me to settle my own affairs. "

"Before I accept that proposal, " said I, "I must know what 'your ownaffairs' include. "

"You're making a fool of yourself--or being made a fool of--which youplease, " he assured me; and his face wore for the moment an almostfriendly look. I saw clearly that he believed he had won the day. The oldlady had managed to make him think that--by what artifice I knew not. Butwhat I did know was that I believed not a jot of the insinuation he wasconveying to me, and had not a doubt of the truth, and sincerity of MarieDelhasse. 

"The best of us do that sometimes, " I answered. "And when one has begun, it is best to go through. "

"As you please. Have you ever practiced with your left hand?"

"No, " said I. 

"Then, " said he, "you've not long to live. "

To do him justice, he said it in no boasting way, but like a man who wouldwarn me, and earnestly. 

"I have never practiced with my right either, " I remarked. "I think I getrather a pull by the arrangement. "

He walked on in silence for a few yards. Then he asked:

"You're resolved on it?"

"Absolutely, " I returned. For I understood that he did but offer the sameterms as before--terms which included the abandonment of Marie Delhasse. 

On we went, our faces set toward the great Mount, and with the sinking sunon our left hands. We met few people, and as we reached the sands yetfewer. When we came to a stand, just where the causeway now begins (it wasnot built then), nobody was in sight. The duke took out his watch. 

"We are punctual to the minute, " said he. "I hope those fellows won't bevery late, or the best of the light will be gone. "

There were some large flat blocks of stone lying by the roadside, and wesat down on them and waited. We were both smoking, and we found little tosay to one another. For my part, I thought less of our coming encounterthan of the success of the scheme which I had laid for Marie's safety. AndI believe that the duke, on his part, gave equally small heed to thefight; for the smile of triumph or satisfaction flitted now and againacross his face, called forth, I made no doubt, by the pleasant convictionwhich Mlle. Delhasse had instilled into his mind, and which had caused himto dub me a fool for risking my life in the service of a woman who hadpromised all he asked of her. 

But the sun sank; the best of the light went; and the officers fromPontorson did not come. It was hard on six. 

"If we fight to-night, we must fight now!" cried the duke suddenly. "Whatthe plague has become of the fellows?"

"It's not too dark for me, " said I. 

"But it soon will be for me, " he answered. "Come, are we to wait tillto-morrow?"

"We'll wait till to-morrow, " said I, "if you'll promise not to seek to seeor speak to Mlle. Delhasse till to-morrow. Otherwise we'll fight tonight, seconds or no seconds, light or no light!"

I never understood perfectly the temper of the man, nor the sudden gustsof passion to which, at a word that chanced to touch him, he was subject. Such a storm caught him now, and he bounded up from where he sat, cursingme for an insolent fellow who dared to put him under terms--for a fool whoflattered himself that all women loved him--and for many other thingswhich it is not well to repeat. So that at last I said:

"Lead the way, then: you know the best place, I suppose. "

Still muttering in fury, cursing now me, now the neglectful seconds, hestrode rapidly on to the sands and led the way at a quick pace, walkingnearly toward the setting sun. The land trended the least bit outwardhere, and the direction kept us well under the lee of a rough stone wallthat fringed the sands on the landward side. Stunted bushes raised theirheads above the wall, and the whole made a perfect screen. Thus we walkedfor some ten minutes with the sun in our eyes and the murmur of the sea inour ears. Then at a spot where the bushes rose highest the duke abruptlystopped, saying, "Here, " and took the case of pistols out of his pocket. He examined the loading, handing each in turn to me. While this was beingdone neither of us spoke. Then he held them both out, the stocks towardsme; and I took the one nearest to my hand. The duke laid the other down onthe sands and motioned me to follow his example; and he took hishandkerchief out of his pocket and wound it round his right hand, confining the fingers closely. 

"Tie the knot, if you can, " said he, holding out his hand thus bound. 

"So far I am willing to trust you, " said I; but he bowed ironically as heanswered:

"It will be awkward enough anyhow for the one of us that chances to killthe other, seeing that we have no seconds or witnesses; but it would looktoo black against me, if my right hand were free while yours is in asling. So pray, Mr. Aycon, do not insist on trusting me too much, but tiethe knot if your wounded arm will let you. "

Engrossed with my thoughts and my schemes, I had not dwelt on the dangerto which he called my attention, and I admit that I hesitated. 

"I have no wish to be called a murderer, " said I. "Shall we not wait againfor M. De Vieuville and his friend?"

"Curse them!" said he, fury in his eye again. "By Heavens, if I live, I'llhave a word with them for playing me such a trick! The light is all butgone now. Come, take your place. There is little choice. "

"You mean to fight, then?"

"Not if you will leave me in peace: but if not--"

"Let us go back to the inn and fight to-morrow: and meanwhile things shallstand as they are, " said I, repeating my offer, in the hope that he wouldnow be more reasonable. 

He looked at me sullenly; then his rage came again upon him, and he cried:

"Take your place: stand where you like, and, in God's name, be quick!" Andhe paused, and then added: "I cannot live another night--" And he brokeoff again, and finished by crying: "Quick! Are you ready?"

Seeing there was no help for it, I took up a position. No more wordspassed between us, but with a gesture he signed to me to move a little:and thus he adjusted our places till we were opposite one another, abouttwo yards between us, and each presenting his side direct to the sun, sothat its slanting rays troubled each of us equally, and that but little. Then he said:

"I will step back five paces, and do you do the like. When we are at thedistance, do you count slowly, 'One--two--three, ' and at 'Three' we willfire. "

I did not like having to count, but it was necessary that one of usshould; and he, when I pressed him, would not. Therefore it was arrangedas he said. And I began to step back, but for an instant he stayed me. Hewas calm now, and he spoke in quiet tones. 

"Even now, if you will go!" said he. "For the girl is mine; and I thinkthat, and not my life or death, is what you care about. "

"The girl is not yours and never will be, " said I. But then I rememberedthat, the seconds not having come, my scheme had gone astray, and that ifhe lived in strength, Marie would be well-nigh at his mercy. And on that Igrew stern, and the desire for his blood came on me; and he, I think, sawit in my face, for he smiled, and without more turned and walked to hisplace. And I did the like; and we turned round again and stood facing oneanother. 

All this time my pistol had hung in the fingers of my right hand. I tookit now in my left, and looked to it, and cried to the duke:

"Are you ready?"

And he answered easily:

"Yes, I'm ready. "

Then I raised my arm and took my aim, --and if the aim were not true on hisheart, my hand and not my will deserves the praise of Mercy, --and I criedaloud:

"One!" and paused; and cried "Two!"

And as the word left my lips--before the final fatal "Three!" was so muchas ready to my tongue--while I yet looked at the duke to see that I wasnot taking him unawares--loud and sharp two shots rang out at the sameinstant in the still air: I felt the whizz of a bullet, as it shaved myear; and the duke, without a sound, fell forward on the sands, his pistolexploding as he fell. 

After all we had our witnesses!

CHAPTER XX. 

The Duke's Epitaph. 

For a moment I stood in amazement, gazing at my opponent where he layprostrate on the sands. Then, guided by the smoke which issued from thebushes, I darted across to the low stone wall and vaulted on to the top ofit. I dived into the bushes, parting them with head and hand: I wasconscious of a man's form rushing by me, but I could pay no heed to him, for right in front of me, in the act of re-loading his pistol, I saw theburly inn-keeper Jacques Bontet. When his eyes fell on me, as I leaped outalmost at his very feet, he swore an oath and turned to run. I raised myhand and fired. Alas! the Duke of Saint-Maclou had been justified in hisconfidence; for, to speak honestly, I do not believe my bullet went withina yard of the fugitive. Hearing the shot and knowing himself unhurt, hehalted and faced me. There was no time for re-loading. I took my pistol bythe muzzle and ran at him. My right arm was nearly useless; but I took itout of the sling and had it ready, for what it was worth. I saw that thefellow's face was pale and that he displayed no pleasure in the game. Buthe stood his ground; and I, made wary by the recollection of my maimedstate, would not rush on him, but came to a stand about a yard from him, reconnoitering how I might best spring on him. Thus we rested for a momenttill remembering that the duke, if he were not already dead, lay at themercy of the other scoundrel, I gathered myself together and threw myselfat Jacques Bontet. He also had clubbed his weapon, and he struck wildly atme as I came on. My head he missed, and the blow fell on my rightshoulder, settling once for all the question whether my right arm was tobe of any use or not. Yet its uselessness mattered not, for I counteredhis blow with a better, and the butt of my pistol fell full and square onhis forehead. For a moment he stood looking at me, with hatred and fear inhis eyes: then, as it seemed to me, quite slowly his knees gave way underhim; his face dropped down from mine; he might have been sinking into theground, till at last, his knees being bent right under him, uttering a lowgroan, he toppled over and lay on the ground. 

Spending on him and his state no more thought that they deserved, Isnatched his pistol from him (for mine was broken at the junction ofbarrel and stock), and, without waiting to load (and indeed with one handhelpless and in the agitation which I was suffering it would have taken memore than a moment), I hastened back to the wall, and, parting the bushes, looked over. It was a strange sight that I saw. The duke was no longerprone on his face, as he had fallen, but lay on his back, with his armsstretched out, crosswise; and by his side knelt a small spare man, whosearched, hunted, and rummaged with hasty, yet cool and methodical, touch, every inch of his clothing. Up and down, across and across, into everypocket, along every lining, aye, down to the boots, ran the nimblefingers; and in the still of the evening, which seemed not broken butrather emphasized by the rumble of the tide that had begun to come in overthe sands from the Mount, his passionate curses struck my ears. Irecollect that I smiled--nay, I believe that I laughed--for the man was myold acquaintance Pierre--and Pierre was still on the track of theCardinal's Necklace; and he had not doubted, any more than I had doubted, that the duke carried it upon his person. Yet Pierre found it not, for hewas growing angry now; he seemed to worry the still body, pushing it andtossing the arms of it to and fro as a puppy tosses a slipper or acushion. And all the while the unconscious face of the Duke ofSaint-Maclou was turned up to heaven, and a stiff smile seemed to mock thebaffled plunderer. And I also wondered where the necklace was. 

Then I let myself down on to the noiseless sands and stole across to thespot where the pair were. Pierre's hands were searching desperately andwildly now; he no longer expected to find, but he could not yet believethat the search was in very truth in vain. Absorbed in his task, he heardme not; and coming up I set my foot on the pistol that lay by him, andcaught him, as the duke had caught Lafleur his comrade, by the nape of theneck, and said to him, in a bantering tone:

"Well, is it not there, my friend?"

He wriggled; but the strength of the little man in a struggle at closequarters was as nothing, and I held him easily with my one sound hand. AndI mocked him, exhorting him to look again, telling him that everything wasnot to be seen from a stable, and bidding him call Lafleur from hell tohelp him. And under my grip he grew quiet and ceased to search; and Iheard nothing but his quick breathing. And I laughed at him as I pluckedhim off the duke and flung him on his back on the sands, and stood lookingdown on him. But he asked no mercy of me; his small eyes answered defianceback to me, and he glanced still wistfully at the quiet man beside us. 

Yet he was to escape me--with small pain to me, I confess. For at themoment a cry rang loud in my ear: I knew the voice; and though I kept myfoot on Pierre's pistol, yet I turned my head. And on the instant thefellow sprang to his feet, and, with an agility that I could not havematched, started running across the sands toward the Mount. Before I hadrealized what he was about, he had thirty yards' start of me. I heard thewater rushing in now; he must wade deep, nay, he must swim to win theMount. But from me he was safe, for I was no such runner as he. Yet, hadhe and I been alone, I would have pursued him. But the cry rang out again, and, giving no more thought to him, I turned whither Marie Delhasse, comein pursuance of my directions, stood with a hand pointed in questioning atthe duke, and the pistol that I had given her fallen from her fingers onthe sand. And she swayed to and fro, till I set my arm round her andsteadied her. 

"Have you killed him?" she asked in a frightened whisper. 

"I did not so much as fire at him, " I answered. "We were attacked bythieves. "

"By thieves?"

"The inn-keeper and another. They thought that he carried the necklace, and tracked us here. "

"And did they take it?"

"It was not on him, " I answered, looking into her eyes. 

She raised them to mine and said simply:

"I have it not;" and with that, asking no more, she drew near to the duke, and sat down by him on the sand, and lifted his head on to her lap, andwiped his brow with her handkerchief, saying in a low voice, "Is he dead?"

Now, whether it be, as some say, that the voice a man loves will rouse himwhen none else will, or that the duke's swoon had merely come to itsnatural end, I know not; but, as she spoke, he, who had slept throughPierre's rough handling, opened his eyes, and, seeing where he was, triedto raise his hand, groping after hers: and he spoke, with difficultyindeed, yet plainly enough, saying:

"The rascals thought I had the necklace. They did not know how kind youhad been, my darling. "

I started where I stood. Marie grew red and then white, and looked down athim no longer with pity, but with scorn and anger on her face. 

"I have it not, " she said again. "For all heaven, I would not touch it!"

And she looked up to me as she said it, praying me with her eyes tobelieve. 

But her words roused and stung the duke to an effort and an activity thatI thought impossible to him; for he rolled himself from her lap, and, raising himself on his hand, with half his body lifted from the ground, said in a loud voice:

"You have it not? You haven't the necklace? Why, your message told me thatyou would never part from it again?"

"I sent no message, " she answered in a hard voice, devoid of pity for him;how should she pity him? "I sent no message, save that I would sooner diethan see you again. "

Amazement spread over his face even in the hour of his agony. 

"You sent, " said he, "to say that you would await me to-night, and to askfor the necklace to adorn yourself for my coming. "

Though he was dying, I could hardly control myself to hear him speak suchwords. But Marie, in the same calm scornful voice asked:

"By whom did the message come?"

"By your mother, " said he, gazing at her eagerly. "And I sent mine--theone I told you--by her. Marie, was it not true?" he cried, dragginghimself nearer to her. 

"True!" she echoed--and no more. 

But it was enough. For an instant he glared at her; then he cried:

"That old fiend has played a trick on me! She has got the necklace!"

And I began to understand the smile that I had seen on Mme. Delhasse'sface, and her marvelous good humor; and I began to have my opinionconcerning her evening stroll to Pontorson. Bontet and Pierre had beenmatched against more than they thought. 

The duke, painfully supported on his hand, drew nearer still to Marie; butshe rose to her feet and retreated a pace as he advanced. And he said:

"But you love me, Marie? You would have--"

She interrupted him. 

"Above all men I loathe you!" she said, looking on him with shrinking andhorror in her face. 

His wound was heavy on him--he was shot in the stomach and was bleedinginwardly--and had drawn his features; his pain brought a sweat on hisbrow, and his arm, trembling, scarce held him. Yet none of these thingsmade the anguish in his eyes as he looked at her. 

"This is the man I love, " said she in calm relentlessness. 

And she put out her hand and took mine, and drew me to her, passing herarm through mine. The Duke of Saint-Maclou looked up at us; then hedropped his head, heavily and with a thud on the sand, and so lay till wethought he was dead. 

Yet it might be that his life could be saved, and I said to Marie:

"Stay by him, while I run for help. "

"I will not stay by him, " she said. 

"Then do you go, " said I. "Stop the first people you meet; or, if you seenone, go to the inn. And bid them bring help to carry a wounded man andprocure a doctor. "

She nodded her head, and, without a glance at him, started running alongthe sands toward the road. And I, left alone with him, sat down and raisedhim, as well as I could, turning his face upward again and resting it onmy thigh. And I wiped his brow. And, after a time, he opened his eyes. 

"Help will be here soon, " I said. "She has gone to bring help. "

Full ten minutes passed slowly; he lay breathing with difficulty, and fromtime to time I wiped his brow. At last he spoke. 

"There's some brandy in my pocket. Give it me, " he said. 

I found the flask and gave him some of its contents, which kept the lifein him for a little longer. And I was glad to feel that he settledhimself, as though more comfortably, against me. 

"What happened?" he asked very faintly. 

And I told him what had happened, as I conceived it--how that Bontet musthave given shelter to Pierre, till such time as escape might be possible;but how that, when Bontet discovered that the necklace was in the inn, thetwo scoundrels, thinking that they might as well be hanged for a sheep asfor a lamb, had determined to make another attempt to secure the covetedspoil; how, in pursuance of this scheme, Bontet had, as I believed, suppressed the duke's message to his friends at Pontorson, with the intentto attack us, as they had done, on the sands; and I added that he himselfknew, better than I, what was likely to have become of the necklace in thehands of Mme. Delhasse. 

"For my part, " I concluded, "I doubt if Madame will be at the inn towelcome us on our return. "

"She came to me and told me that Marie would give all I asked, and I gaveher the necklace to give to Marie; and believing what she told me, I wasanxious not to fight you, for I thought you had nothing to gain byfighting. Yet you angered me, so I resolved to fight. "

He seemed to have strength for nothing more; yet at the end, before lifeleft him, one strange last change came over him. Both his rough passionand the terrible abasement of defeat seemed to leave him, and his facebecame again the face of a well-bred, self-controlled man. There was ahelpless effort at a shrug of his shoulders, a scornful slight smile onhis lips, and a look of recognition, almost of friendliness, almost ofhumor, in his eyes, as he said to me, who still held his head:

"_Mon Dieu_, but I've made a mess of it, Mr. Aycon!"

And I do not know that anyone could better this epitaph which the Duke ofSaint-Maclou composed for himself in the last words he spoke this side thegrave. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A Passing Carriage. 

When I saw that the Duke of Saint-Maclou was dead, I laid him down on thesands, straightening him into a seemly posture; and I closed his eyes andspread his handkerchief over his face. Then I began to walk up and downwith folded arms, pondering over the life and fate of the man and thestrange link between us which the influence of two women had forged. And Irecognized also that an hour ago the greater likelihood had been that Ishould be where he lay, and he be looking down on me. _Dis aliter visum. _His own sin had stretched him there, and I lived to muse on the wreck--onthe "mess" as he said in self-mockery--that he had made of his life. Yet, as I had felt when I talked to him before, so I felt now, that his hadbeen the hand to open my eyes, and from his mighty but base love I hadlearned a love as strong and, as I could in all honesty say, more pure. 

The sun was quite gone now, the roll of the tide was nearer, and watergleamed between us and the Mount. But we were beyond its utmost rise, saveat a spring tide, and I waited long, too engrossed in my thoughts to beimpatient for Marie's return. I did not even cross the wall to see howBontet fared under the blow I had given him--whether he were dead, or laystill stunned, or had found life enough to crawl away. In truth, I carednot then. 

Presently across the sands, through the growing gloom, I saw a groupapproaching me. Marie I knew by her figure and gait and saw more plainly, for she walked a little in front as though she were setting the example ofhaste. The rest followed together; and, looking past them, I could justdiscern a carriage which had been driven some way on to the sands. One ofthe strangers wore top-boots and the livery of a servant. As theyapproached, he fell back, and the remaining two--a man and a woman on hisarm--came more clearly into view. Marie reached me some twenty yards aheadof them. 

"I met no one till I was at the inn, " she said, "and then this carriagewas driving by; and I told them that a gentleman lay hurt on the sands, and they came to help you to carry him up. "

I nodded and walked forward to meet them; for by now I knew the man, yes, and the woman, though she wore a veil. And it was too late to stop theirapproach. Uncovering my head, I stepped up to them, and they stopped insurprise at seeing me. For the pair were Gustave de Berensac and theduchess. He had gone, as he told me afterward, to see the duchess, andthey had spent the afternoon in a drive, and she was going to set him downat his friend's quarters in Pontorson, when Marie met them, and notknowing them nor they her (though Gustave had once, two years before, heard her sing) had brought them on this errand. 

The little duchess threw up her veil. Her face was pale, her lipsquivered, and her eyes asked a trembling question. At the sight of me Ithink she knew at once what the truth was: it needed but the sight of meto let light in on the seemingly obscure story which Marie had told, of aduel planned, and then interrupted by a treacherous assault and attemptedrobbery. With my hand I signed to the duchess to stop; but she did notstop, but walked past me, merely asking:

"Is he badly hurt?"

I caught her by the arm and held her. 

"Yes, " said I, "badly;" and I felt her eyes fixed on mine. 

Then she said, gently and calmly:

"Then he is dead?"

"Yes, he is dead, " I answered, and loosed her arm. 

Gustave de Berensac had not spoken: and he now came silently to my side, and he and I followed a pace or two behind the duchess. The servant hadhalted ten or fifteen yards away. Marie had reached where the duke lay andstood now close by him, her arms at her side and her head bowed. Theduchess walked up to her husband and, kneeling beside him, lifted thehandkerchief from his face. The expression wherewith he had spoken hisepitaph--the summary of his life--was set on his face, so that he seemedstill to smile in bitter amusement. And the little duchess looked long onthe face that smiled in contempt on life and death alike. No tears came inher eyes and the quiver had left her lips. She gazed at him calmly, tryingperhaps to read the riddle of his smile. And all the while Marie Delhasselooked down from under drooping lids. 

I stepped up to the duchess' side. She saw me coming and turned her eyesto mine. 

"He looked just like that when he asked me to marry him, " she said, withthe simple gravity of a child whose usual merriment is sobered bysomething that it cannot understand. 

I doubted not that he had. Life, marriage, death--so he had faced themall, with scorn and weariness and acquiescence--all, save that one passionwhich bore him beyond himself. 

The duchess spread the handkerchief again over the dead man's face, androse to her feet. And she looked across the dead body of the duke at MarieDelhasse. I knew not what she would say, for she must have guessed by nowwho the girl was that had brought her to the place. Suddenly the questioncame in a tone of curiosity, without resentment, yet tinctured with adelicate scorn, as though spoken across a gulf of difference:

"Did you really care for him at all?"

Marie started, but she met the duchess' eyes and answered in a low voicewith a single word:

"No. "

"Ah, well!" said the little duchess with a sigh; and, if I read arightwhat she expressed, it was a pitying recognition of the reason in thatanswer: he could not have expected anyone to love him, she seemed to say. And if that were so, then indeed had the finger of truth guided the dukein the penning of his epitaph. 

We three, who were standing round the body, seemed sunk in our ownthoughts, and it was Gustave de Berensac who went to the servant and badehim bring the carriage nearer to where we were; and when it was come, theytwo lifted the duke in and disposed his body as well as they could. Theman mounted the box, and at a foot-pace we set out. The duchess had notspoken again, nor had Marie Delhasse; but when I took my place by Mariethe duchess suffered Gustave to join her, and in this order we passedalong. But before we had gone far, when indeed we had but just reached theroad, we met four of the police hurrying along; and before they came to usor saw what was in the carriage, one cried:

"Have you seen a small spare man pass this way lately? He would be runningperhaps, or walking fast. "

I stepped forward and drew them aside, signing the carriage to go on andto the others to follow it. 

"I can tell you all there is to be told about him, if you mean the manwhom I think you mean, " said I. "But I doubt if you will catch him now. "

And with that I told them the story briefly, and so far as it affected thematter they were engaged upon; and they heard it with much astonishment. For they had tracked Pierre (or Raymond Pinceau as they called him, sayingit was his true name) to Bontet's stable, on the matter of the previousattempt on the necklace and the death of Lafleur, and on no other, and didnot think to hear such a sequel as I unfolded to them. 

"And if you will search, " said I, "some six yards behind the wall, andmaybe a quarter of a mile from the road, I fancy you will find Bontet; hemay have crawled a little way, but could not far, I think. As for the Dukeof Saint-Maclou, gentlemen, his body was in the carriage that passed youthis moment. And I am at your service, although I would desire, if it bepossible, to be allowed to follow my friends. "

There being but four of them and their anxiety being to achieve thecapture of Pierre, they made no difficulty of allowing me to go on my way, taking from me my promise to present myself before the magistrate atAvranches next day; and leaving two to seek for Bontet, the other two madeon, in the hope of finding a boat to take them to the Mount, whither theyconceived the escaped man must have directed his steps. 

Thus delayed, I was some time behind the others in reaching the inn, and Ifound Gustave waiting for me in the entrance. The body of the duke hadbeen carried to his own room and a messenger sent to procure a properconveyance. Marie Delhasse was upstairs, and Gustave's message to me wasthat the duchess desired to see me. 

"Nay, " said I, "there is one thing I want to do before that;" and I calledto a servant girl who was hovering between terror and excitement at theevents of the evening, and asked her whether Mme. Delhasse had returned. 

"No, sir, " she answered. "The lady left word that she would be back inhalf an hour, but she has not yet returned. "

Then I said to Gustave de Berensac, laying my hand on his shoulder:

"When I am married, Gustave, you will not meet my mother-in-law in myhouse;" and I left Gustave staring in an amazement not unnatural to hisignorance. And I allowed myself to be directed by the servant girl towhere the duchess sat. 

The duchess waited till the door was shut, and then turned to me as ifabout to speak, but I was beforehand with her; and I began:

"Forgive me for speaking of the necklace, but I fear it is still missing. "

The duchess looked at me scornfully. 

"He gave it to the girl again, I suppose?" she asked. 

"He gave it, " I answered, "to the girl's mother, and she, I fear, has madeoff with it;" and I told the duchess how Mme. Delhasse had laid her plot. The duchess heard me in silence, but at the end she remarked:

"It does not matter. I would never have worn the thing again; but it was apretty plot between them. "

"The duke had no thought, " I began, "but that--"

"Oh, I meant between mother and daughter, " said the duchess. "The mothergets the diamonds from my husband; the daughter, it seems, Mr. Aycon, islikely to get respectability from you; and I suppose they will share therespective benefits when this trouble has blown over. "

It was no use to be angry with her; to confess the truth, I felt thatanger would come ill from me. So I did but say very quietly:

"I think you are wrong. Mlle. Delhasse knew nothing of her mother'sdevice. "

"You do not deny all of what I say, " observed the duchess. 

"Mlle. Delhasse, " I returned, "is in no need of what you suggest; but Ihope that she will be my wife. "

"And some day, " said the duchess, "you will see the necklace--or perhapsthat would not be safe. Madame will send the money. "

"When it happens, " said I, "on my honor, I will write and tell you. "

The duchess, with a toss of her head which meant "Well, I'm right andyou're wrong, " rose from her seat. 

"I must take poor Armand home, " said she. "M. De Berensac is going withme. Will you accompany us?"

"If you will give me a delay of one hour, I will most willingly. "

"What have you to do in that hour, Mr. Aycon?"

"I purpose to escort Mlle. Delhasse back to the convent and leave herthere. I suppose we shall all have to answer some questions in regard tothis sad matter, and where can she stay near Avranches save there?"

"She certainly can't come to my house, " said the duchess. 

"It would be impossible under the circumstances, " I agreed. 

"Under any circumstances, " said the duchess haughtily. 

By this time a covered conveyance had been procured, and when the duchess, having fired her last scornful remark at me, walked to the door of theinn, the body of the duke was being placed in it. Gustave de Berensacassisted the servant, and their task was just accomplished when JacquesBontet was carried by two of the police to the door. The man was alive andwould recover, they said, and be able to stand his trial. But as yet nonews had come of the fortune that attended the pursuit of Raymond Pinceau, otherwise known as Pierre. It was conjectured that he must have had a boatwaiting for him at or near the Mount, and, gaining it, had for the momentat least made good his escape. 

"But we shall find about that from Bontet, " said one of them, with acomplacent nod at the fellow who lay still in a sort of stupor, withblood-stained bandages round his head. 

I stood by the door of the duchess' carriage, in which she and Gustavewere to follow the body of the duke, and when she came to step in Ioffered her my hand. But she would have none of it. She got in unassisted, and Gustave followed her. They were about to move off, when suddenly, running from the house in wild dismay, came Marie Delhasse, and caring fornone of those who stood round, she seized my arm, crying:

"My mother is neither in the sitting room nor in her bedroom! Where isshe?"

Now I saw no need to tell Marie at that time what had become of Mme. Delhasse. The matter, however, was not left in my hands; no, nor in thoseof Gustave de Berensac, who called out hastily to the driver, "Ready! Goon, go on!" The duchess called "Wait!" and then she turned to MarieDelhasse and said in calm cold tones:

"You ask where your mother is. Well, then, where is the necklace?"

Marie drew back as though she had been struck; yet her grip did not leavemy arm, but tightened on it. 

"The necklace?" she gasped. 

And the duchess, using the most scornful words she knew and giving a shortlittle laugh, said. 

"Your mother has levanted with the necklace. Of course you didn't know!"

Thus, if Marie Delhasse had been stern to the Duke of Saint-Maclou when helay dying, his wife avenged him to the full and more. For at the words, atthe sight of the duchess' disdainful face and of my troubled look, Marieuttered a cry and reeled and sank half-fainting in my arms. 

"Oh, drive on!" said the Duchess of Saint-Maclou in a wearied tone. 

And away they drove, leaving us two alone. Nor did Marie speak again, unless it were in distressed incoherent protests, till, an hour later, Idelivered her into the charge of the Mother Superior at the convent by theside of the bay. And the old lady bade me wait till she saw Mariecomfortably bestowed, and then she returned to me and we walked side byside for a while in the little burying-ground, she listening to an outlineof my story. Perhaps I, in a lover's zeal, spoke harshly of the duchess;for the old lady put her hand upon my arm and said to me:

"It was not for losing the diamonds that her heart was sore--poor sillychild!"

And, inasmuch as I doubted whether my venerable friend thought that it wasfor the loss of her husband either, I held my peace. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

From Shadow to Sunshine. 

There remains yet one strange and terrible episode of which I must tell, though indeed, I thank God, I was in no way a witness of it. A week afterthe events which I have set down, while Marie still lay prostrate at theconvent, and I abode at my old hotel in Avranches, assisting to the bestof my power in the inquiry being held by the local magistrate, an officerof police arrived from Havre; and when the magistrate had heard his story, he summoned me from the ante-room where I was waiting, and bade me alsolisten to the story. And this it was:

At the office where tickets were taken for a ship on the point to make thevoyage to America, among all the crowd about to cross, it chanced that twopeople met one another--an elderly woman whose face was covered by a thickveil, and a short spare man who wore a fair wig and large red whiskers. Yet, notwithstanding these disguises, the pair knew one another. For atfirst sight of the woman, the man cowered away and tried to hide himself;while she, perceiving him, gave a sudden scream and clutched eagerly atthe pocket of her dress. 

Seeing himself feared, the ruffian took courage, his quick brain tellinghim that the woman also was seeking to avoid recognition. And when she hadtaken her ticket, he contrived to see the book and, finding a name whichhe did not know as hers, he tracked her to the inn where she was lodgingtill the vessel should start. When he walked into the inn, she shrankbefore him and turned pale--for he caught her with the veil off herface--and again she clutched at her pocket. He sat down near her: for awhile she sat still; then she rose and walked out into the air, as thoughshe went for a walk. But he, suspecting rightly that she would not return, tracked her again to another inn, meaner and more obscure than the first, and, walking in, he sat down by her. And again the third time this wasdone: and there were people who had been at each of the inns to speak toit: and those at the third inn said that the woman looked as though Satanhimself had taken his place by her--so full of helplessness and horror wasshe; while the man smiled under alert bright eyes that would not leave herface, except now and again for a swift watchful glance round the room. Forhe was now hunter and hunted both; yet, like a dog that will be slainrather than loose his hold, he chose to risk his own life, if by that hemight not lose sight of the unhappy woman. Two lives had been spentalready in the quest: a third was nought to him; and the woman's air andclutching of her pocket had set an idea afloat in his brain. The vesselwas to sail at six the next morning; and it was eight in the evening whenthe man sat down opposite the woman in the third inn they visited--it wasno better than a drinking shop near the quays. For half an hour they sat, and there was that in their air that made them observed. Suddenly the mancrossed over to the woman and whispered in her ear. She started, cryinglow yet audibly, "You lie!" But he spoke to her again; and then she roseand paid her score and walked out of the inn on to the quays, followed byher unrelenting attendant. It was dark now, or quite dusk; and a loitererat the door distinguished their figures among the passing crowd but for afew yards: then they disappeared; and none was found who had seen themagain, either under cover or in the open air, that night. 

And for my part, I like not to think how the night passed for thatwretched old woman; for at some hour and in some place, near by the water, the man found her alone, and ran his prey to the ground before thebloodhounds that were on his track could come up with them. 

Indeed he almost won safety, or at least respite; for the ship was alreadymoving when she was boarded by the police, who, searching high and low, came at last on the spare man with the red whiskers; these an officerrudely plucked off and the fair wig with them, and called the prisoner bythe name of Pinceau. The little man made one rush with a knife, and, foiled in that, another for the side of the vessel. But his efforts wereuseless. He was handcuffed and led on shore. And when he was searched, thestones which had gone to compose the great treasure of the family ofSaint-Maclou--the Cardinal's Necklace--were found hidden here and thereabout him; but the setting was gone. 

And the woman? Let me say it briefly. Great were her sins, and not thegreatest of them was the theft of the Cardinal's Necklace. Yet the greaterthat she took in hand to do was happily thwarted; and I pray that shefound mercy when the deep dark waters of the harbor swallowed her on thatnight, and gave back her body to a shameful burial. 

 * * * * *

In the quiet convent by the shores of the bay the wind of the world, withits burden of sin and sorrow, blows faintly and with tempered force: thetalk of idle, eager tongues cannot break across the comforting of kindvoices and the sweet strains of quiet worship. Raymond Pinceau was dead, and Jacques Bontet condemned to lifelong penal servitude; and the worldhad ceased to talk of the story that had been revealed at the trial ofthese men, and--what the world loved even more to discuss--of how much ofthe story had not been revealed. 

For although M. De Vieuville, President of the Court which tried Bontet, and father of Alfred de Vieuville, that friend of the duke's who was tohave acted at the duel, complimented me on the candor with which I gave myevidence, yet he did not press me beyond what was strictly necessary tobring home to the prisoners the crimes of murder and attempted robberywith which they were charged. Not till I knew the Judge, having beenintroduced to him by his son, did he ask me further of the matter; andthen, sitting on the lawn of his country-house, I told him the wholestory, as it has been set down in this narrative, saving only sundrymatters which had passed between the duchess and myself on the one hand, and between Marie Delhasse and myself on the other. Yet I do not thinkthat my reticence availed me much against an acumen trained and developedby dialectic struggles with generations of criminals. For the firstquestion which M. De Vieuville put to me was this:

"And what of the girl, Mr. Aycon? She has suffered indeed for the sins ofothers. "

But young Alfred, who was standing by, laid a hand on his father'sshoulder and said with a laugh:

"Father, when Mr. Aycon leaves us tomorrow, it is to visit the convent atAvranches. " And the old man held out his hand to me, saying:

"You do well. "

To the convent at Avranches then I went one bright morning in the springof the next year; and again I walked with the stately old lady in thelittle burial ground. Yet she was a little less stately, and I thoughtthat there was what the profane might call a twinkle in her eye, as shedeplored Marie's disinclination to become a permanent inmate of theestablishment over which she presided. And on her lips came an indubitablesmile when I leaped back from her in horror at the thought. 

"There would be none here to throw her troubles in her teeth, " pursued theMother Superior, smiling still. "None to remind her of her mother's shame;none to lay snares for her; none to remind her of the beauty which hasbrought so much woe on her; no men to disturb her life with their angryconflicting passions. Does not the picture attract you, Mr. Aycon?"

"As a picture, " said I, "it is almost perfect. There is but one blemish init. "

"A blemish? I do not perceive it. "

"Why, madame, I cannot find anywhere in your canvas the figure of myself. "

With a laugh she turned away and passed through the arched gateway. And Isaw my friend, the little nun who had first opened the door to me when Icame seeking the duchess, pass by and pause a moment to look at me. Then Iwas left alone till Marie came to me through the gateway: and I sprang upto meet her. 

I have been candid throughout, and I will be candid now--even though myplain speaking strikes not at myself, but at Marie, who must forgive me asbest she may. For I believe she meant to marry me from the very first; andI doubt whether if I had taken the dismissal she gave, I should have beenallowed to go far on my solitary way. Indeed I think she did but want tohear me say how that all she urged was lighter than a feather against mylove for her, and, if that were her desire, she was gratified to the full;seeing that for a moment she frightened me, and I outdid every lover sincethe world began (it cannot be that I deceive myself in thinking that) invehemence and insistence. So that she reproved me, adding:

"You can hardly speak the truth in all that you say: for at first, youknow, you were more than half in love with the Duchess of Saint-Maclou. "

For a moment I was silenced. Then I looked at Marie: and I found in herwords no more a rebuke, but a provocation--aye, a challenge to prove thatby no possibility could I, who loved her so passionately, ever have beenso much as half in love with any woman in the whole world, the Duchess ofSaint-Maclou not excepted. And prove it I did that morning in the burialground of the convent, to my own complete satisfaction, and therebyovercame the last doubts which afflicted Marie Delhasse. 

And if, in spite of that most exhaustive and satisfactory proof, the thingproved remained not much more true than the thing disproved--why, it isnot my fault. For Love has a virtue of oblivion--yes, and a better still:that which is past he, exceeding in power all Olympus besides, makes asthough it had never been, never could have been, and was from the firstentirely impossible, absurd, and inconceivable. And for an instance ofwhat I say--if indeed a further example than my own be needed, whichshould not be the case--let us look at the Duchess of Saint-Maclouherself. 

For, if I were half in love with the duchess, which I by no means admit, modesty shall not blind me from holding that the duchess was as good ahalf in love with me. Yet, when I had been married to Marie Delhasse somesix months, I received a letter from my good friend Gustave de Berensac, informing me of his approaching union with Mme. De Saint-Maclou. And, if Imight judge from Gustave's letter, he repudiated utterly the idea which Ihave ventured to suggest concerning the duchess. 

Two other facts Gustave mentioned--both of them, I think, with a touch ofapology. The first was that the duchess, being unable to endure thehorrible associations now indissolubly connected with the Cardinal'sNecklace, of which she had become owner for the term of her life--

"What? Won't she wear it?" asked my wife at this point: she was (as wiveswill) leaning over my shoulder as I read the letter. 

It was what I also had expected to read; but what I did read was that theduchess, ingeniously contriving to save both her feelings and herdiamonds, had caused the stones to be set in a tiara--"which, " continuedGustave (I am sure he was much in love) "will not have any of theunpleasant associations connected with the necklace. "

And the second fact? It was this--just this, though it was wrapped up inall the roundabout phrases and softened by all the polite expressions offriendship of which Gustave was master, --yet just this, --that he was notin a position to invite myself and my wife to the wedding! For the littleduchess, consistent to the end, in spite of his entreaties and protests, had resolutely and entirely declined to receive Mrs. Aycon!

I finished the letter and looked up at Marie. And Marie, lookingthoughtfully down at the paper, observed:

"I always told you that she was fond of you, you know. "

But, for my part, I hope that Marie's explanation is not the true one. Iprefer to attribute the duchess' refusal--in which, I may state, shesteadily persists--to some mistaken and misplaced sense of propriety; or, if that fails me, then I will set it down to the fact that Marie'spresence would recall too many painful and distressing scenes, and be toofull of unpleasant associations. Thus understood, the duchess' refusal wasquite natural and agreed completely with what she had done in respect ofthe necklace--for it was out of the question to turn the edge of thedifficulty by converting Marie into a tiara!

So the duchess will not receive my wife. But I forgive her--for, beyonddoubt, but for the little duchess and that indiscretion of hers, I shouldnot have received my wife myself!

 * * * * *

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