“Silence for your life!” I had time to whisper to Suzanne; and then I followed him.  There might be more “fun” to come.

The duchess was sitting with a book in her hand.  I was half-hidden by the duke, and she did not see me.  She looked up, smiled, yawned, and held out her hand.

“I hardly expected you, Armand,” said she.  “I thought you were in Algeria.”

Anybody would have been annoyed; there is no doubt that the Duke of Saint-Maclou was very much annoyed.

“You don’t seem overjoyed at the surprise,” said he gruffly.

“You are always surprising me,” she answered, lifting her eyebrows.

Suddenly he turned round, saying “Sampson!” and then turned to her, adding: 

“Here’s another old friend for you.”  And he seized me by the shoulder and pulled me into the room.

The duchess sprang to her feet, crying out in startled tones, “Back?”

I kept my eyes glued to the floor, wondering what would happen next, thinking that it would be, likely enough, a personal conflict with my master.

“Yes, back,” said he.  “I am sorry, madame, if it is not your pleasure, for it chances to be mine.”

His sneer gave the duchess a moment’s time.  I felt her regarding me, and I looked up cautiously.  The duke still stood half a pace in front of me, and the message of my glance sped past him unperceived.

Then came what I had looked for—­the gradual dawning of the position on the duchess, and the reflection of that dawning light in those wonderful eyes of hers.  She clasped her hands, and drew in her breath in a long “Oh!” It spoke utter amusement and delight.  What would the duke make of it?  He did not know what to make of it, and glared at her in angry bewilderment.  Her quick wit saw the blunder she had been betrayed into.  She said “Oh!” again, but this time it expressed nothing except a sense of insult and indignation.

“What’s that man here for?” she asked.

“Because I have engaged him to assist my household.”

“I had dismissed him,” she said haughtily.

“I must beg you to postpone the execution of your decree,” said he.  “I have need of a servant, and I have no time to find another.”

“What need is there of another?  Is not Lafleur here?” (She was playing her part well now.)

“Lafleur comes to-morrow; but he will not be enough.”

“Not enough—­for you and me?”

“Our party will be larger to-morrow.”

“More surprises?” she asked, sinking back into her chair.

“If it be a surprise that I should invite my friends to my house,” he retorted.

“And that you should not consult your wife,” she said, with a smile.

He turned to me, bethinking himself, I suppose, that the conversation was not best suited for the ears of the groom.

“Go and join your fellow-servants; and see that you behave yourself this time.”