There was no drawing back; the circumstances positively forbade it, even
if a certain smile following fast upon the momentary embarrassment of
the Duchess had not prompted him to put himself at her mercy.
“A thousand pardons, Madame la Duchesse,” he said, standing in the
doorway. “_Je vous dérange_.”
She rose from her chair composedly, a figure of matured grace and
practised courtliness, and above all with an air of what he flattered
himself was friendliness. She directed him to a seat.
“The pleasure is unexpected, monsieur,” she said; “but it is a moment
for quick decision, I suppose. What is the cue? To be desperate?” here
she laughed softly, “or to take a chair? Monsieur has called to see
his Grace. I regret exceedingly that a pressing business has called my
husband to the town, and he is unlikely to be back for another hour at
least. If monsieur--assuming desperation is not the cue--will please to
be seated--”
Count Victor was puzzled for a second or two, but came farther into the
room, and, seeing the lady resume her seat, he availed himself of her
invitation and took the chair she offered.
“Madame la Duchesse,” he went on to say with some evidence of confusion
that prejudiced her the more in his favour, “I am, as you see, in the
drollest circumstances, and--pardon the _bêtise_--time is at the moment
the most valuable of my assets.”
“Oh!” she cried with a low laugh that gave evidence of the sunniest
disposition in the world--“Oh! that is not a pretty speech, monsieur!
But there! you cannot, of course, know my powers of entertainment.
Positively there need be no hurry. On my honour, as the true friend of
a gentleman who looked very like monsieur, and was, by the way, a
compatriot, I repeat there is no occasion for haste. I presume monsieur
found no servants--those stupid servants!--to let him into the house,
and wisely found an entrance for himself? How droll! It is our way in
these barbaric places; people just come and go as they please; we waive
ceremony. By the way, monsieur has not done me the honour to confide to
me his name.”
“Upon my word, Madame la Duchesse, I--I forget it myself at the moment,”
said Count Victor, divining her strategy, but too much embarrassed to
play up to her lead. “Perhaps madame may remember.”
She drew down her brows in a comical frown, and then rippled into low
laughter. “Now, how in the world should I know if monsieur does not? I,
that have never”--here she stared in his face with a solemnity in which
her amusement struggled--“never, to my knowledge, seen him before. I
have heard the Duke speak of a certain M. Soi-disant! perhaps monsieur
is Monsieur Soi-disant?”
“_Sans doute_, Madame la Duchesse, and madame's very humble servant,”
acquiesced Count Victor, relieved to have his first impression of
strategy confirmed, and inclining his head.
She looked at him archly and laughed again. “I have a great admiration
for your sex, M. Soi-disant,” she said; “my dear Duke compels it, but
now and then--now and then--I think it a little stupid. Not to know your
own name! I hope monsieur does not hope to go through life depending
upon women all the time to set him at ease in his chair. You are
obviously not at ease in your chair, Monsieur Soi-disant.”
“It is this coat, Madame la Duchesse,” Count Victor replied, looking
down at the somewhat too ample sleeves and skirt; “I fell into it--”
“That is very obvious,” she interrupted, with no effort to conceal her
amusement.
“I fell into it by sheer accident, and it fits me like an evil habit,
and under the circumstances is as inconvenient to get rid of.”
“And still an excellent coat, monsieur. Let me see; has it not a
familiar look? Oh! I remember; it is very like one I have seen with the
Duke's Chamberlain--poor fellow! Monsieur has doubtless heard of his
accident, and will be glad to learn that he is out of danger, and like
to be abroad in a very short time.”
This was a humour touching him too closely; he replied in a
monosyllable.
“Perhaps it was the coat gave me the impression that I had seen monsieur
somewhere before. He reminds me, as I have said, of a compatriot who was
the cause of the Chamberlain's injury.”
“And is now, doubtless, in prison,” added the Count, bent on giving
evidence of some inventiveness of his own.
“Nay! by no means,” cried the Duchess. “He was in a cell, but escaped
two or three hours ago, as our watchman discovered, and is now probably
far away from here.”
“Ah, then,” said Count Victor with nonchalance, “I daresay they will
speedily recapture him. If they only knew the way with any of my
compatriots it is to put a woman in his path, only she must be a woman
of _esprit_ and charm, and she shall engage him, I'll warrant, till the
pursuit come up, even if it takes a century and the axe is at the end of
it.”
The Duchess coughed.
The Count hemmed.
They both broke into laughter.
“Luckily, then,” said she, “he need have no anxiety on that score,
should he meet the lady, for the pursuit is neither hot nor hearty.
Between ourselves, monsieur, it is non-existent. If I were to meet this
person we speak of I should--but for the terror I know I should feel in
his society--tell him that so long as he did not venture within a couple
of miles of this castle he was perfectly safe from interference.”
“And yet a dangerous man, Madame la Duchesse,” said Count Victor; “and I
have heard the Duke is determined on his punishment, which is of course
proper--from his Grace's point of view.”
“Yes, yes! I am told he is a dangerous man, a very monster. The Duke
assured me of that, though if I were to tell the truth, Monsieur
Soi-disant, I saw no evidence of it in the young gentleman when I met
him last night. A most harmless fellow, I assure you. Are monsieur's
feet not cold?”
She was staring at his red-heeled dancing-shoes.
“_Pas du tout!_” he replied promptly, tucking them under his chair.
“These experiments in costume are a foible with me.”
There was a step along the corridor outside, which made him snap off
his sentence hurriedly and turn listening and apprehensive. Again the
Duchess was amused.
“No, monsieur, it is not his Grace yet; you are all impatience to meet
him, I see, and my poor company makes little amends for his absence;
but it is as I say, he will not be back for another hour. You are
interested, doubtless, in the oddities of human nature; for me I am
continually laughing at the transparency of the stratagems whereby men
like my husband try to lock their hearts up like a garden and throw away
the key before they come into the company of their wives. I'm _sure_
your poor feet must be cold. You did not drive? Such a night of snow
too! I cannot approve of your foible for dancing-shoes to wade through
snow in such weather. As I was saying, you are not only the stupid sex
sometimes, but a most transparent one. I will let you into a
little secret that may convince you that what I say of our Count
What's-his-name not being hunted is true. I see quite clearly that
the Duke is delighted to have this scandal of a duel--oh! the shocking
things, duels, Monsieur Soi-disant!--shut up. In the forenoon he was
mightily vexed with that poor Count What-do-you-call-him for a purely
personal reason that I may tell you of later, but mainly because
his duty compelled him to secure the other party to the--let us say,
outrage. You follow, Monsieur Soi-disant?”
“_Parfaitement_, Madame la Duchesse,” said Count Victor, wondering where
all this led to.
“I am a foolish sentimentalist, I daresay you may think--for a person of
my age (are you quite comfortable, monsieur? I fear that chair does not
suit you)--I am a foolish sentimentalist, as I have said, and I may tell
you I pleaded very hard for the release of this luckless compatriot of
yours who was then in the fosse. But, oh dear! his Grace was adamant, as
is the way with dukes, at least in this country, and I pleaded in vain.”
“Naturally, madame; his Grace had his duty as a good subject.”
“Doubtless,” said the Duchess; “but there have been occasions in
history, they assure me, when good subjects have been none the less nice
husbands. Monsieur can still follow me?”
Count Victor smiled and bowed again, and wished to heaven her Grace the
Duchess had a little more of the gift of expedition. He had come looking
for a sword and found a sermon.
“I know I weary you,” she went on complacently. “I was about to say that
while the Duke desires to do his duty, even at the risk of breaking his
wife's heart, it was obvious to me he was all the time sorry to have to
do it, and when we heard that our Frenchman had escaped I, take my word
for it, was not the only one relieved.”
“I do not wonder, madame,” said Montaiglon, “that the subject in this
case should capitulate to--to--to the--”
“To the loving husband, you were about to say. La! you are too gallant,
monsieur, I declare. And as a matter of fact the true explanation is
less to my husband's credit and less flattering to me, for he had his
own reasons.”
“One generally has,” reflected the Count aloud.
“Quite! and in his case they are very often mine. Dear Archie! Though he
did not think I knew it, I saw clearly that he had his own reasons, as I
say, to wish the Frenchman well out of the country. Now could you guess
what these reasons were?”
Count Victor confessed with shame that it was beyond him.
“I will tell you. They were not his own interests, and they were not
mine, that influenced him; I had not to think very hard to discover that
they were the interests of the Chamberlain. I fancy his Grace knows
that the less inquiry there is into this encounter the better for all
concerned.”
“I daresay, Madame la Duchesse,” agreed Count Victor, “and yet the world
speaks well of the Chamberlain, one hears.”
“Woe unto you when all men speak well of you!” quoted the Duchess
sententiously.
“It only happens when the turf is in our teeth,” said the Count, “and
then _De mortuis_ is a motto our dear friends use more as an excuse than
as a moral.”
“I do not like our Chamberlain, monsieur; I may frankly tell you so.
I should not be surprised to learn that my husband knows a little more
about him than I do, and I give you my word I know enough to consider
him hateful.”
“These are most delicate considerations, Madame la Duchesse,” said the
Count, vastly charmed by her manner but naturally desirous of the open
air. Every step he heard in neighbouring lobbies, every slammed door,
spoiled his attention to the lady's confidences, and he had an uneasy
sense that she was not wholly unamused at his predicament, however much
his friend.
“Delicate considerations, true, but I fear they do not interest Monsieur
Soi-disant. How should they indeed? Gossip, monsieur, gossip! At
our age, as you might say, we must be chattering. I _know_ you are
uncomfortable on that chair. Do, monsieur, please take another.”
This time he was convinced of his first suspicion that she was having
her revenge for his tactless remark to her husband, for he had not
stirred at all in his chair, but had only reddened, and she had a smile
at the corners of her mouth.
“At my age, Madame la Duchesse, we are quite often impertinent fools.
There is, however, but one age--the truly golden. We reach it when
we fall first in love, and there love keeps us. His Grace, Madame la
Duchesse, is, I am sure, the happiest of men.”
She was seated opposite him. Leaning forward a little, she put forth her
hand in a motherly, unembarrassed way, and placed it for a moment on his
knee, looking into his face, smiling.
“Good boy! good boy!” she said.
And then she rose as if to hint that it was time for him to go.
“I see you are impatient; perhaps you may meet the Duke on his way
back.”
“Charmed, Madame la Duchesse, I assure you,” said the Count with a
grimace, and they both fell into laughing.
She recovered herself first to scan the shoes and coat again. “How
droll!” said she. “Ah, monsieur, you are delightful in your foibles,
but I wish it had looked like any other coat than Simon Mac-Taggart's.
I have never seen his without wondering how many dark secrets were
underneath the velvet. Had this coat of yours been a perfect fit,
believe me I had not expected much from you of honour or of decency.
Oh! there I go on chattering again, and you have said scarcely twenty
words.”
“Believe me, Madame la Duchesse, it is because I can find none good
enough to express my gratitude,” said Count Victor, making for the door.
“Pooh! Monsieur Soi-disant, a fig for your gratitude! Would you have me
inhospitable to a guest who would save me even the trouble of opening my
door? And that, by the way, reminds me, monsieur, that you have not even
hinted at what you might be seeking his Grace for? Could it be--could it
be for a better fit in coats?”
“For a mere trifle, madame, no more than my sword.”
“Your sword, monsieur? I know nothing of Monsieur Soi-disant's sword,
but I think I know where is one might serve his purpose.”
With these words she went out of the room, hurried along the corridor,
and returned in a moment or two with Count Victor's weapon, which she
dragged back by its belt as if she loathed an actual contact with the
thing itself.
“There!” she said, affecting a shudder. “A mouse and a rapier, they are
my bitterest horrors. If you could only guess what a coward I am! Good
night, monsieur, and I hope--I hope”--she laughed as she hung on the
wish a moment--“I hope you will meet his Grace on the way. If so, you
may tell him 'tis rather inclement weather for the night air--at
his age,” and she laughed again. “If you do not see him--as is
possible--come back soon; look! my door bids you in your own
language--_Revenez bientôt_. I am sure he will be charmed to see you,
and to make his delight the more I shall never mention you were here
tonight.”
She went along the lobby and looked down the stair to see that the way
was clear; came back and offered her hand.
“Madame la Duchesse, you are very magnanimous,” he said, exceedingly
grateful.
“Imprudent, rather,” she corrected him.
“Magnanimity and Prudence are cousins who, praise _le bon Dieu!_ never
speak to each other, and the world is very much better for it.” He
pointed to the motto on the panel. “I may never come back, madame,” said
he, “but at least I shall never forget.”
“_Au plaisir de vous revoir_, Monsieur Soi-disant,” she said in
conclusion, and went into her room and closed the door.
“Now there's a darling!” said the Duchess as she heard his footsteps
softly departing. “Archie was just such another--at his age.”