eir apartments. The Duchess of Err
conveyed away her husband with her, holding up her long silken train
with one hand and giving the ex-diplomat a push on before her with the
other, as often as he needed it. The Duke had forgotten that he had once
already partaken of supper, and craved another. He even shed a few
tears. Yet he had his good points. His emotion showed a sympathetic
nature, and besides, the ladies were there under his escort and
protection. The Duchess said so, so it must be true. Meantime, however,
she propelled him to bed.

The Countess Livia gave Raphael her hand to kiss, saying at the same
time, "To-morrow I will find your village maid for you!"

On the way the Duchess divided her attention between making sure that
her husband took the right turning in the long corridors of the castle
of Collioure, and reproaching Raphael for not building a new and elegant
chateau "after the manner of Chenancieux or Cour Chevernay--light,
dainty, fit for a lady's jewel-case."

At this Raphael laughed, and, holding the candelabra high in his hand,
begged them to look up and mark upon the lintels of the narrow windows
the splintering of the cannon shots and the grooves made by the inrush
of the arbalast bolts.

"My Lady Duchess," he answered, "I would be glad to do your
bidding--first, if I had the security; second, if I had the river;
third, if I had the money. But I have no money, alas, save what I
gather hardly enough from my vines and the flocks on the hillside yonder
(see that faithful man guarding my interests--I never had a herder like
him). Besides, I am here between three fires, or it may be four--our
good King Philip, the step-father of his people, the King of France, the
Bearnais, and, may be before long, the Holy League also. Bullets may
soon be whistling again at Collioure, as they have whistled before, and
I would rather that they encountered these ten-foot walls, and mortar of
excellent shell-lime, than the moulded sugar and plaster of these
ladies' toys along the Loire!"

"Ah, you will not move with the times!" cried the Duchess, propelling
her husband severely into his dressing-room to make sure that he, at
least, moved with the times--a little faster even--"if you had been as
long in France as I--well, but there--I forgive you. You are a good
Catholic, and a subject of King Philip. Therefore you cannot help it,
and our lord the King sees to it that you have something else to do with
your money tha