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 floor. With one glance at the duke and myself, she sprang back, with a cry of most genuine surprise.
"Oh, you're mighty surprised, aren't you?" sneered the duke. "Old Jean didn't scuttle away to tell you then? You keep a good watch, young woman. Your mistress' orders, eh?"
Still Suzanne stared—and at me. The duke chuckled.
"Yes, he's back again," said he, "so you must make the best of it, my girl. Where’s the duchess?"
"In—in—in her sitting-room, M. le Duc."
"'In—in—in,'" he echoed mockingly. Then he stepped swiftly across the hall and flung the door suddenly open. I believe he thought that he really had surprised the duchess this time in spite of Jean's slow aged scamper ahead of him.
"Silence for your life!" I had time to whisper to Suzanne; and then I followed him. There might be more "fun" to come.
The duchess was sitting with a book in her hand. I was half-hidden by the duke, and
