The Indiscretion of the Duchess | Page 9

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 the
duke!"
"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 only
wanted the arrival of--Well, good-by!"
And with a final and long pressure of the duchess' hand, I, in the garb
and personality of George Sampson, dismissed for drunkenness,
walked out of the gate of the château.
"One thing," I observed to myself as I started, "would seem highly
probable--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
top of the hill. In about three minutes' time we met. There sat alone in
the carriage a tall dark man, with a puffy white face, a heavy mustache,
and stern cold eyes. He was smoking a cigar. I plucked my hat from my
head and made 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,
speak English--not that gabble." And then he repeated his order, "Speak
English," in English, and continued in that language, which he spoke
with stiff 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
natural to 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 but
firmly.
"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,
my lord--"
"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 may
save 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,
but the work will perhaps be too much for him. Are you willing to stay
and help? 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
you are 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 impatient
anger. Then he leaned forward and said:
"You are curiously reluctant, sir, to earn your living. I don't understand
it. I must make some inquiries about you."
I detected suspicion dawning in his eyes. He was a great man; I did not
know what hindrances he might not be able to put in the way of my
disappearance. And what would happen if he made his inquiries?
Inquiries might mean searching, and I carried a passport in the name of
Gilbert Aycon.
Such share had prudence; the rest must be put down to the sudden
impulse of amusement which seized me. It was but for a day or two!
Then I could steal away. Meanwhile what would not the face of the
duchess say, when I rode 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,
my friend. Up with you!"
And I got up beside the driver--not, luckily, the one who had brought
Gustave de Berensac and myself the day before--and the carriage
resumed its 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 just behind. Suzanne was sweeping the