I to conquer love. And you, old sober-face, do not look so
glum!" he added, turning to Clyffurde.

And his ringing laugh seemed to echo from end to end of the narrow
valley.

After which a lighter atmosphere hung around the table outside the
"Auberge du Grand Dauphin." There was but little talk of the political
situation, still less of party hatred and caste prejudices. The hero's
name was still on the lips of the two men who worshipped him, and
Clyffurde, faithful to his attitude of detachment from political
conflicts, listened quite unmoved to the impassioned dithyrambs of his
friends.

But so absorbed were these two in their conversation and their joy that
they failed to notice that Clyffurde hardly touched the excellent
_dejeuner_ set before him and left mine host's fine Burgundy almost
untasted.

CHAPTER II

THE OLD REGIME

I

On that same day and at about the same time when Victor de Marmont and
his English friend first turned their horses up the bridle path and
sighted Notre Dame de Vaulx (when, if you remember, the young Frenchman
drew rein and fell to apostrophising the hamlet, the day, the hour and
the glorious news which he was expecting to hear) at about that
self-same hour, I say, in the Chateau de Brestalou, situate on the right
bank of the Isere at a couple of kilometres from Grenoble, the big
folding doors of solid mahogany which lead from the suite of vast
reception rooms to the small boudoir beyond were thrown open and Hector
appeared to announce that M. le Comte de Cambray would be ready to
receive Mme. la Duchesse in the library in a quarter of an hour.

Mme. la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen thereupon closed the gilt-edged,
much-bethumbed Missal which she was reading--since this was Sunday and
she had been unable to attend Mass owing to that severe twinge of
rheumatism in her right knee--and placed it upon the table close to her
elbow; then with delicate, bemittened hand she smoothed out one unruly
crease in her puce silk gown and finally looked up through her round,
bone-rimmed spectacles at the sober-visaged, majestic personage who
stood at attention in the doorway.

"Tell M. le Comte, my good Hector," she said with slow deliberation,
"that I will be with him at the time which he has so graciously
appointed."

Hector bowed himself out of the room with that perfect decorum which
proclaims the well-trained domestic of an aristocratic house. As soon as
the tall mahogany doors were