Suzanne came down and approached me, saying simply, “Come,” and led the way toward the servants’ quarters.  I followed her, smiling; I was about to make acquaintance with a new side of life.

Yet at the same time I was wondering who Mlle. Delhasse might chance to be:  the name seemed familiar to me, and yet for the moment I could not trace it.  And then I slapped my thigh in the impulse of my discovery.

“By Jove, Marie Delhasse the singer!” cried I, in English.

“Sir, sir, for Heaven’s sake be quiet!” whispered Suzanne.

“You are perfectly right,” said I, with a nod of approbation.

“And this is the pantry,” said Suzanne, for all the world as though nothing had happened.  “And in that cupboard you will find Sampson’s livery.”

“Is it a pretty one?” I asked.

“You, sir, will look well in it,” said she, with that delicate evasive flattery that I love.  “Would not you, sir, look well in anything?” she meant.

And while I changed my traveling suit for the livery, I remembered more about Marie Delhasse, and, among other things, that the Duke of Saint-Maclou was rumored to be her most persistent admirer.  Some said that she favored him; others denied it with more or less conviction and indignation.  But, whatever might chance to be the truth about that, it was plain that the duchess had something to say for herself when she declined to receive the lady.  Her refusal was no idle freak, but a fixed determination, to which she would probably adhere.  And, in fact, adhere to it she did, even under some considerable changes of circumstance.

CHAPTER V.

A Strategic Retreat.

The arrival of the duke, aided perhaps by his bearing toward his wife and toward me, had a somewhat curious effect on me.  I will not say that I felt at liberty to fall in love with the duchess; but I felt the chain of honor, which had hitherto bound me from taking any advantage of her indiscretion, growing weaker; and I also perceived the possibility of my inclinations beginning to strain on the weakened chain.  On this account, among others, I resolved, as I sat in the pantry drinking a glass of wine with which Suzanne kindly provided me, that my sojourn in the duke’s household should be of the shortest.  Moreover, I was not amused; I was not a real groom; the maids treated me with greater distance and deference than before; I lost the entertainment of upstairs, and did not gain the interest of downstairs.  The absurd position must be ended.  I would hear what the duchess wanted of me; then I would go, leaving Lafleur to grapple with his increased labors as best he could.  True, I should miss Marie Delhasse.  Well, young men are foolish.

“Perhaps,” said I to myself with a sigh, “it’s just as well.”