“May nothing less than death part you and me?”

And I drank the toast with him, saying “Amen.”

CHAPTER XVII.

A Reluctant Intrusion.

As Bontet the inn-keeper set the wine on the table before the Duke of Saint-Maclou, the big clock in the hall of the inn struck noon.  It is strange to me, even now when the story has grown old in my memory, to recall all that happened before the hands of that clock pointed again to twelve.  And last year when I revisited the neighborhood and found a neat new house standing on the site of the ramshackle inn, I could not pass by without a queer feeling in my throat; for it was there that the results of the duchess’ indiscretion finally worked themselves out to their unexpected, fatal, and momentous ending.  Seldom, as I should suppose, has such a mixed skein of good and evil, of fatality and happiness, been spun from material no more substantial than a sportive lady’s idle freak.

“By the way, Mr. Aycon,” said the duke, after we had drunk our toast, “I have had a message from the magistrate at Avranches requesting our presence to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock.  An inquiry has to be held into the death of that rascal Lafleur, and our evidence must be taken.  It is a mere formality, the magistrate is good enough to assure me, and I have assured him that we shall neither of us allow anything to interfere with our waiting on him, if we can possibly do so.”

“I could have sent no other message myself,” said I.

“I will also,” continued the duke, “send word by Bontet here to those two friends of mine at Pontorson.  It would be dull for you to dine alone with me, and, as the evening promises to be fine, I will ask them to be here by five o’clock, and we will have a stroll on the sands and a nearer look at the Mount before our meal.  They are officers who are quartered there.”

“Their presence,” said I, “will add greatly to the pleasure of the evening.”

“Meanwhile, if you will excuse me, I shall take an hour or two’s rest.  We missed our sleep last night, and we should wish to be fresh when our guests arrive.  If I might advise you—­”

“I am about to breakfast, after that I may follow your advice.”

“Ah, you’ve not breakfasted?  You can’t do better, then. Au revoir;” and with a bow he left me, calling to Bontet to follow him upstairs and wait for the note which was to go to the officers at Pontorson.  It must be admitted that the duke conducted the necessary arrangements with much tact.

In a quarter of an hour my breakfast was before me, and I seated myself with my back to the door and my face to the window.  I had plenty to think about as I ate; but my chief anxiety was by some means to obtain an interview with Marie Delhasse, not with a view to persuading her to attempt escape with me before the evening—­for I had made up my mind that the issue with the duke must be faced now,