The Indiscretion of the Duchess Part 12

"Who are you?" she cried. "What do you know about it? What concern is it of yours?"

There was no indolence or lack of animation in her manner now. She questioned me with imperious indignation.

"I will answer not a single word," said I. "But--you asked me last night what I had heard of you."

"Well?" she said, and shut her lips tightly on the word.

I held my peace; and in a moment she went on pa.s.sionately:

"Who would have guessed that you would insult me? Is it your habit to insult women?"

"Not mine only, it seems," said I, meeting her glance boldly.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Had you, then, an invitation from Mme. de Saint-Maclou?"

She drew back as if I had struck her. And I felt as though I had struck her. She looked at me for a moment with parted lips; then, without a word or a sign, she turned and walked slowly away in the direction of the hotel.

And I, glad to have something else to occupy my thoughts, started at a brisk pace along the foot-path that runs down the hill and meets the road which would lead me to the convent, for I had a thing or two to say to the d.u.c.h.ess. And yet it was not of the d.u.c.h.ess only that I thought as I went.

There were also in my mind the indignant pride with which Marie Delha.s.se had questioned me, and the shrinking shame in her eyes at that counter-question of mine. The Duke of Saint-Maclou's invitation seemed to bring as much disquiet to one of his guests as it had to his wife herself.

But one thing struck me, and I found a sort of comfort in it: she had thought, it seemed, that the d.u.c.h.ess was to be at home.

"Pah!" I cried suddenly to myself. "If she weren't pretty, you'd say that made it worse!"

And I went on in a bad temper.

CHAPTER VII.

Heard through the Door.

Twenty minutes' walking brought me to the wood which lay between the road and the convent. I pressed on; soon the wood ceased and I found myself on the outskirts of a paddock of rough gra.s.s, where a couple of cows and half a dozen goats were pasturing; a row of stunted apple trees ran along one side of the paddock, and opposite me rose the white walls of the convent; while on my left was the burying-ground with its arched gateway, inscribed "_Mors janua vitae_." I crossed the gra.s.s and rang a bell, that clanged again and again in echo. n.o.body came. I pulled a second time and more violently. After some further delay the door was cautiously opened a little way, and a young woman looked out. She was a round-faced, red-cheeked, fresh creature, arrayed in a large close-fitting white cap, a big white collar over her shoulders, and a black gown. When she saw me, she uttered an exclamation of alarm, and pushed the door to again. Just in time I inserted my foot between door and doorpost.

"I beg your pardon," said I politely, "but you evidently misunderstand me.

I wish to enter."

She peered at me through the two-inch gap my timely foot had preserved.

"But it is impossible," she objected. "Our rules do not allow it. Indeed, I may not talk to you. I beg of you to move your foot."

"But then you would shut the door."

She could not deny it.

"I mean no harm," I protested.

"'The guile of the wicked is infinite,'" remarked the little nun.

"I want to see the Mother Superior," said I. "Will you take my name to her?"

I heard another step in the pa.s.sage. The door was flung wide open, and a stout and stately old lady faced me, a frown on her brow.

"Madame," said I, "until you hear my errand you will think me an ill-mannered fellow."

"What is your business, sir?"

"It is for your ear alone, madame."

"You can't come in here," said she decisively.

For a moment I was at a loss. Then the simplest solution in the world occurred to me.

"But you can come out, madame," I suggested.

She looked at me doubtfully for a minute. Then she stepped out, shutting the door carefully behind her. I caught a glimpse of the little nun's face, and thought there was a look of disappointment on it. The old lady and I began to walk along the path that led to the burying-ground.

"I do not know," said I, "whether you have heard of me. My name is Aycon."

"I thought so. Mr. Aycon, I must tell you that you are very much to blame.

You have led this innocent, though thoughtless, child into most deplorable conduct."

("Well done, little d.u.c.h.ess!" said I to myself; but of course I was not going to betray her.)

"I deeply regret my thoughtlessness," said I earnestly. "I would, however, observe that the present position of the d.u.c.h.ess is not due to my--shall we say misconduct?--but to that of her husband. I did not invite--"

"Don't mention her name!" interrupted the Mother Superior in horror.

We had reached the arched gateway; and there appeared standing within it a figure most charmingly inappropriate to a graveyard--the d.u.c.h.ess herself, looking as fresh as a daisy, and as happy as a child with a new toy. She ran to me, holding out both hands and crying:

"Ah, my dear, dear Mr. Aycon, you are the most delightful man alive! You come at the very moment I want you."

"Be sober, my child, be sober!" murmured the old lady.

"But I want to hear," expostulated the d.u.c.h.ess. "Do you know anything, Mr.

Aycon? What has been happening up at the house? What has the duke done?"

As the d.u.c.h.ess poured out her questions, we pa.s.sed through the gate; the ladies sat down on a stone bench just inside, and I, standing, told my story. The d.u.c.h.ess was amused to hear of old Jean's chase of her; but she showed no astonishment till I told her that Marie Delha.s.se was at the hotel in Avranches, and had declined to go further on her journey to-day.

"At the hotel? Then you've seen her?" she burst out. "What is she like?"

"She is most extremely handsome," said I. "Moreover, I am inclined to like her."

The Mother Superior opened her lips--to reprove me, no doubt; but the d.u.c.h.ess was too quick.

"Oh, you like her? Perhaps you're going to desert me and go over to her?"