tared at her. "The Count
is at this moment cooling his heels in the fosse cell."

"That is hard!" said she, reddening.

"But what would you, my dear? I am still as much the representative
of the law as ever, and am I to connive at such outrages under my own
windows because the chief offender is something of a handsome young
gentleman who has the tact to apologise for a disturbance in my domestic
affairs that must, as he puts it, be disconcerting to a man at my age? A
man of my age--there's France!--_toujours la politesse_, if you please!
At my age! Confound his impudence!"

The Duchess could not suppress a smile.

"At his age, my dear," said she, "you had the tact to put so obvious a
thing differently or leave it alone."

"Not that I heed his impudence," said the Duke hastily; "that a man is
no longer young at sixty is the most transparent of facts."

"Only he does not care to have it mentioned too unexpectedly. Oh,
you goose!" And she laughed outright, then checked herself at the
recollection of the ailing Chamberlain.

"If I would believe myself as young as ever I was, my dear lass,"
said he, "credit me it is that it is more to seem so in the eyes of
yourself," and he put his arm around her waist.

"But still," said she after a little--"still the unlucky Frenchman is in
the fosse more for his want of tact, I fear, than for his crime against
the law of the land. Who pinked--if that's the nasty word--who pinked
the Dutchman in Utrecht?--that's what I should like to know, my dear
Justice Shallow."

"This is different, though; he came here for the express purpose--"

"Of quarrelling with the Chamberlain!"

"Well, of quarrelling with somebody, as you know," said the nobleman
hesitatingly.

"I am sorry for MacTaggart," said the Duchess, "really sorry, but I
cannot pretend to believe he has been very ill done by--I mean unjustly
done by. I am sure my Frenchman must have had some provocation, and is
really the victim."

"You--that is we--know nothing about that, my dear," said Argyll.

"I cannot be mistaken; you would be the first at any other time to
admit that I could tell whether a man was good or evil on a very brief
acquaintance. With every regard for your favour to the Chamberlain, I
cannot stand the man. If my instinct did not tell me he was vicious, my
ears would, for I hear many stories little to his credit."

"And yet a brave man, goodwife, a faithful servant and an interesting
fellow. Come now! J