received them with infinite good humour. Richelieu arrived last, and the frankness of her welcome, tempered as it was by a touch of profound respect for his exalted rank, seemed to him to be the very essence of good breeding. Supper was eventually announced, but at this stage Céline pleaded a headache, and on this plea contrived to remain behind. Richelieu, infinitely pained at the news, was so good as to offer to remain with her until she should feel well enough to rejoin her friends—an offer which Céline gratefully accepted.
Left alone with her, he, as a matter of course, condoled with her on her affliction, and suggested many remedies, which she pettishly rejected.
"Bah! Monsieur le Duc, are you so young a hand as not to understand that there are headaches for which a congenial tête-à-tête is the best remedy? These friends of yours—they worry me. They talk so much, and they do not talk well. I can listen to you, but not to them."
"I am infinitely flattered, Madame, at the compliment you are so good as to to pay me. I cannot doubt its good faith, for it is a conclusion that you have arrived at after some deliberation."
"You allude to the silence with which I have hitherto received your attention. You must remember that I was not a free agent. The acts of a woman who is embarrassed by the incessant presence of a jealous husband must not be judged too strictly. But there, he is gone, and I am to all intents a widow."
"You would have been a widow in very truth, long since, if I had found it possible to comply with his
