the duchess motioned me to stop. For an instant her eyes rested on mine. Then she said, in gentle tones:
“I am glad, Sampson, that the duke thinks it safe to give you an opportunity of retrieving your character.”
“That for his character!” said the duke, snapping his fingers. “I want him to help when Mme. and Mlle. Delhasse are here.”
On the words the duchess went red in the face, and then white, and sprang up, declaring aloud in resolute, angry tones, that witnessed the depth of her feelings in the matter:
“I will not receive Mlle. Delhasse!”
I was glad I had not missed that: it was a new aspect of my little friend the duchess. Alas, my pleasure was short-lived! for the duke, his face full of passion, pointed to the door, saying “Go!” and, cursing his regard for the dignity of the family, I went.
In the hall I paused. At first I saw nobody. Presently a rosy, beaming face peered at me over the baluster halfway up the stairs, and Suzanne stole cautiously down, her finger on her lips.
“But what does it mean, sir?” she whispered.
“It means,” said I, “that the duke takes me for the dismissed groom—and has re-engaged me.”
“And you’ve come?” she cried softly, clasping her hands in amazement.
“Doesn’t it appear so?”
“And you’re going to stay, sir?”
