"I daresay, Madame la Duchesse," agreed Count Victor, "and yet the world
speaks well of the Chamberlain, one hears."

"Woe unto you when all men speak well of you!" quoted the Duchess
sententiously.

"It only happens when the turf is in our teeth," said the Count, "and
then _De mortuis_ is a motto our dear friends use more as an excuse than
as a moral."

"I do not like our Chamberlain, monsieur; I may frankly tell you so.
I should not be surprised to learn that my husband knows a little more
about him than I do, and I give you my word I know enough to consider
him hateful."

"These are most delicate considerations, Madame la Duchesse," said the
Count, vastly charmed by her manner but naturally desirous of the open
air. Every step he heard in neighbouring lobbies, every slammed door,
spoiled his attention to the lady's confidences, and he had an uneasy
sense that she was not wholly unamused at his predicament, however much
his friend.

"Delicate considerations, true, but I fear they do not interest Monsieur
Soi-disant. How should they indeed? Gossip, monsieur, gossip! At
our age, as you might say, we must be chattering. I _know_ you are
uncomfortable on that chair. Do, monsieur, please take another."

This time he was convinced of his first suspicion that she was having
her revenge for his tactless remark to her husband, for he had not
stirred at all in his chair, but had only reddened, and she had a smile
at the corners of her mouth.

"At my age, Madame la Duchesse, we are quite often impertinent fools.
There is, however, but one age--the truly golden. We reach it when
we fall first in love, and there love keeps us. His Grace, Madame la
Duchesse, is, I am sure, the happiest of men."

She was seated opposite him. Leaning forward a little, she put forth her
hand in a motherly, unembarrassed way, and placed it for a moment on his
knee, looking into his face, smiling.

"Good boy! good boy!" she said.

And then she rose as if to hint that it was time for him to go.

"I see you are impatient; perhaps you may meet the Duke on his way
back."

"Charmed, Madame la Duchesse, I assure you," said the Count with a
grimace, and they both fell into laughing.

She recovered herself first to scan the shoes and coat again. "How
droll!" said she. "Ah, monsieur, you are delightful in your foibles,
but I wish it had looked like any other coat than Simon Mac-Taggart's.
I have never seen his without wondering how many dark