The Indiscretion of the Duchess | Page 5

"It is possible, sir."
"Or," cried I, with a smile, "hypocrisy?"
The chambermaid's shake of her head refused to accept this idea; but
my conscience, fastening on it, found rest. I hesitated no longer. The
man was a cunning hypocrite. I would go on cheerfully, secure that he
deserved all the bamboozling which the duchess and my friend Gustave
might prepare for him.
At nine o'clock, as Gustave had arranged, we started in a heavy carriage
drawn by two great white horses and driven by a stolid fat hostler.
Slowly we jogged along under the stars, St. Michel being our continual
companion on the right hand, as we followed the road round the bay.

When we had gone five or six miles, we turned suddenly inland. There
were banks on each side of the road now, and we were going uphill; for
rising out of the plain 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
had now sunk to a walk.
We jumped out and strode on ahead, soon distancing our carriage, and
waking echoes with our merry talk.
"I rather wonder they have not come to meet us," said Gustave. "See,
there is the house."
A sudden turn in the road had brought us in sight of it. It was a rather
small modern Gothic château. It nestled comfortably below the hill,
which rose very steeply immediately behind it. The road along which
we were approaching appeared to afford the only access, and no other
house was visible. But, desolate as the spot certainly was, the house
itself presented a gay appearance, for there were lights in every window
from ground to roof.
"She seems to have company," I observed.
"It is that she expects us," answered Gustave. "This illumination is in
our 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
just come near the flame"--and a laugh followed the words.
"Slow to light is long to burn," said I, turning to the bank on the left
side 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 not heard his question.
Did I permit myself to guess at such things, I should have guessed the
duchess to be about twenty-five years old. She was not tall; her hair
was a dark brown, and the color in her cheeks rich but subdued. She
moved with extraordinary grace and agility, and seemed never at rest.
The one term of praise (if it be one, which I sometimes incline to doubt)
that I have never heard applied to her is--dignified.
"It is most charming of you to come, Mr. Aycon," said she. "I've heard
so much 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 good
enough spirits to have supper when I'm alone. You'll be terribly
uncomfortable, gentlemen. The whole household consists of an old
man and five women--counting myself."

"And are they all--?" began Gustave.
"Discreet?" she asked, interrupting again. "Oh, they will not tell the
truth! Never fear, my dear Gustave!"
"What news of the duke?" asked he, as we began to walk, the duchess
stepping 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,
furnished with rose-colored hangings. Here supper was spread. Gustave
walked up to the table. The duchess flung herself into an armchair. She
had taken her handkerchief out of her pocket, and she held it in front of
her lips and seemed to be biting it. Her eyebrows were raised, and her
face displayed a comical