“The only restriction, touching Mrs. Spencer, is the order of the Military Governor,” I answered.  “If you can induce her to acknowledge the falsity of that certificate, she shall be free to resume her journey to the Devil, via your Chateau, and joy go with her.”

He flung back his head and laughed heartily.

“A trifle hard on my Chateau, cousin, to locate it on the road to Hell.  But we will let it pass.  For, between us, it is a good road and an easy; and they, who travel it, are a finer lot than the superstitious dreamers who grope, in darkness, along the bleak and stony path they fancy leads upward to the Light.”

“You mistook my meaning,” I said.  “It’s not for me to criticise another’s chosen road, whether it be the rough one or the smooth.  There are no hand boards at the forking, and only a blind fall at the end of each.  It’s all a guess; and, so far as I know, one road is as good as another.”

He looked at me, rather curiously.  “Which road do you travel, cousin?” he asked.

“Neither, by intention,” I answered.  “I am still at the Forks.”

He laughed, rather sarcastically.  “Well, when you leave them, if you chance to come my way, the Chateau is at your disposal.  Meanwhile, I’ll endeavor to steer Madame Spencer, alias Dalberg, toward it.”

I could feel the deliberate sneer, but it was too well veiled to resent, openly.

“At least, don’t expect me as a guest while she is there,” I replied.

“I don’t imagine I would want you, then,” said he.  He went over to the door; then returned and, leaning on the back of a chair, looked at me thoughtfully.

“What now?” I wondered—­and waited.

“There is a matter, cousin,” he began, “which has been on my mind lately—­and this may be as good a time as any to take it up.”

I nodded.  “Go ahead—­we are in the humor for confidences, this afternoon, it seems.”

“And for plain speaking?” he asked.

“Between men I’m always for that,” said I.  “It’s the safest in the end.”

“Exactly my opinion.  I am glad to have one of your experience and discretion agree with it,” he answered.

It seemed to give him the keenest pleasure to sneer at me, to my very face, with compliments he thought I would take seriously.  And, in truth, I think I was beginning to enjoy it as much as he.

“You are a bit old for your age, my dear Duke,” I said.

“But I have much to learn,” he said modestly.

“It will all come in time, cousin,” I answered patronizingly.

He dropped his head an instant—­to hide his smiles, I knew.

“A charming afternoon,” he said.  “Confidences—­compliments—­and plain speaking.  We are making rare progress, cousin mine.”

“And, why not?” I asked.

“Surely,” he exclaimed, heartily, “surely—­why not?” Then he paused.  “And, now, for the plain speaking.”