The Indiscretion of the Duchess | Page 3

year
ago, when the duchess had visited England with her husband, I had
received an invitation to meet her at the Embassy. Unhappily, the death
of a relative (whom I had never seen) occurring the day before, I had
been obliged to post off to Ireland, and pay proper respect by appearing
at the funeral. When I returned the duchess had gone, and Gustave had,
half-ironically, consoled my evident annoyance by telling me that he
had given 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 consoled needs no saying. That I required consolation will appear
not unnatural when I say that the duchess was one of the most brilliant
and well-known persons in French society; yes, and outside France also.
For she was a cosmopolitan. Her father was French, her mother
American; and she had passed two or three years in England before her
marriage. She was very pretty, and, report said, as witty as a pretty
woman need be. Once she had been rich, but the money was swallowed
up by speculation; she and her father (the mother was dead) were
threatened with such reduction of means as seemed to them penury; and
the marriage with the duke had speedily followed--the precise degree of
unwillingness on the part of Mlle. de Beville being a disputed point.
Men said she was forced into the marriage, women very much doubted
it; the lady herself gave no indication, and her father declared that the
match was one of affection. All this I had heard from common friends;
only a series of annoying accidents had prevented the more interesting
means of knowledge which acquaintance with the duchess herself
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 rather
wished to know her.
"My belief is," he continued, "that though she says 'anybody,' she
means you. She knows what friends we are; she knows you are eager to

be among her 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 friends
and 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 the
fireplace and rising to his feet, "is that you would refuse when I did ask
you. 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
long are 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 your
sister 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 will make 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 why
I should not go. I said as much to Gustave.
"Seeing that everybody is going out of town and the place will be a
desert in a week, I'm certainly not wanted here just now."
"And seeing that the duke is gone to Algeria, we certainly are wanted

there," 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
of it!"
"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 it
was 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 the
foregoing conversation,--and if carefully tabulated they would, I am
persuaded, 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,
levelheaded race. We have