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