“There is a regiment quartered at Pontorson, and I have acquaintances among the officers.  If agreeable to you, we will drive over there; we shall find gentlemen ready to assist us.”

“You are determined to fight?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, with a snap of his lips.  “Have we not matters enough and to spare to fight about?”

“I can’t of course deny that you have a pretext.”

“And I, Mr. Aycon, know that I have also a cause.  Will this morning suit you?”

“It is hard on two now.”

“Precisely.  We have time for a little rest; then I will order the carriage and we will drive together to Pontorson.”

“You mean that I should stay in your house?”

“If you will so far honor me.  I wish to settle this affair at once, so as to be moving.”

“I can but accept.”

“Indeed you could hardly get back to Avranches, if, as I presume, you came on foot.  Ah! you’ve never told me why you wished to see Jean;” and he turned a questioning look on me again, as he walked toward the door of the cottage.

“It was—­” I began.

“Stay; you shall tell me in the house.  Shall I lead the way?  Ah, but you know it!” and he smiled grimly.

With a bow, I preceded him along the little path where I had once waited for the duchess, and where Pierre, the new servant, had found me.  No words passed between us as we went.  The duke advanced to the door and unlocked it.  We went in, nobody was about, and we crossed the dimly lighted hall into the small room where supper had been laid for three (three who should have been four) on the night of my arrival.  Meat, bread, and wine stood on the table now, and with a polite gesture the duke invited me to a repast.  I was tired and hungry, and I took a hunch of bread and poured out some wine.

“What keeps Jean, I wonder?” mused the duke, as he sat down.  “Perhaps he has found her!” and a gleam of eager hope flashed from his eyes.

I made no comment—­where was the profit in more sparring of words?  I munched my bread and drank my wine, thinking, by a whimsical turn of thought, of Gustave de Berensac and his horror at the table laid for three.  Soon I laid down my napkin, and the duke held out his cigarette case toward me: 

“And now, Mr. Aycon, if I’m not keeping you up—­”

“I do not feel sleepy,” said I.

“It is the same for both of us,” he reminded me, shrugging his shoulders.  “Well, then, if you are willing—­of course you can refuse if you choose—­I should like to hear what brought you to Jean’s quarters on foot from Avranches in the middle of the night.”

“You shall hear.  I did not desire to meet you, if I could avoid it, and therefore I sought old Jean, with the intention of making him a messenger to you.”

“For what purpose?”

“To restore to you something which has been left on my hands and to which you have a better right than I.”