"Yes! No doubt she would
have wished me to leave it with the porter at the lodge. No doubt she
deems it an act of officiousness on my part to have found it at all."

And his anger mounted.

"How very good of you," she said. "My uncle could not think where he had
mislaid it."

"I am very fortunate to be the means of restoring it," said he.

Then, after a second's suspension, as she said nothing (she kept her
eyes on the snuffbox, examining it as if it were quite new to her), he
lifted his hat, and bowed, preparatory to retiring down the avenue.

"Oh, but my uncle will wish to thank you," she exclaimed, looking up,
with a kind of start. "Will you not come in? I--I will see whether he is
disengaged."

She made a tentative movement towards the door. She had thawed
perceptibly.

But even as she thawed, Peter, in his anger, froze and stiffened. "I
will see whether he is disengaged." The expression grated. And perhaps,
in effect, it was not a particularly felicitous expression. But if the
poor woman was suffering from nervous apprehension--?

"I beg you on no account to disturb Cardinal Udeschini," he returned
loftily. "It is not a matter of the slightest consequence."

And even as he stiffened, she unbent.

"But it is a matter of consequence to him, to us," she said, faintly
smiling. "We have hunted high and low for it. We feared it was lost for
good. It must have fallen from his pocket when he was walking. He will
wish to thank you."

"I am more than thanked already," said Peter. Alas (as Monsieur de la
Pallisse has sagely noted), when we aim to appear dignified, how often
do we just succeed in appearing churlish.

And to put a seal upon this ridiculous encounter, to make it
irrevocable, he lifted his hat again, and turned away.

"Oh, very well," murmured the Duchessa, in a voice that did not reach
him. If it had reached him, perhaps he would have come back, perhaps
things might have happened. I think there was regret in her voice, as
well as despite. She stood for a minute, as he tramped down the avenue,
and looked after him, with those unusually dark, grave eyes. At last,
making a little gesture--as of regret? despite? impatience?--she went
into the house.

"Here is your snuff-box," she said to the Cardinal.

The old man put down his Breviary (he was seated by an open window,
getting through his office), and smiled at the snuff box fondly,
caressing it with his finger. Afterwards, he shook it, opened it,