weaknesses, he certainly had known no master.  His heir, Plantagenet Palliser, had been always subject to him.  His other relations had been kept at such a distance as hardly to be more than recognised; and though his Grace no doubt had had his intimacies, they who had been intimate with him had either never tried to obtain ascendancy, or had failed.  Lady Glencora, whether with or without a struggle, had succeeded, and people about the Duke said that the Duke was much changed.  Mr. Fothergill,—­who was his Grace’s man of business, and who was not a favourite with Lady Glencora,—­said that he was very much changed indeed.  Finding his Grace so much changed, Mr. Fothergill had made a little attempt at dictation himself, but had receded with fingers very much scorched in the attempt.  It was indeed possible that the Duke was becoming in the slightest degree weary of Lady Glencora’s thraldom, and that he thought that Madame Max Goesler might be more tender with him.  Madame Max Goesler, however, intended to be tender only on one condition.

When Lady Glencora entered the room, Madame Goesler received her beautifully.  “How lucky that you should have come just when his Grace is here!” she said.

“I saw my uncle’s carriage, and of course I knew it,” said Lady Glencora.

“Then the favour is to him,” said Madame Goesler, smiling.

“No, indeed; I was coming.  If my word is to be doubted in that point, I must insist on having the servant up; I must, certainly.  I told him to drive to this door, as far back as Grosvenor Street.  Did I not, Planty?” Planty was the little Lord Silverbridge as was to be, if nothing unfortunate intervened, who was now sitting on his granduncle’s knee.

“Dou said to the little house in Park Lane,” said the boy.

“Yes,—­because I forgot the number.”

“And it is the smallest house in Park Lane, so the evidence is complete,” said Madame Goesler.  Lady Glencora had not cared much for evidence to convince Madame Goesler, but she had not wished her uncle to think that he was watched and hunted down.  It might be necessary that he should know that he was watched, but things had not come to that as yet.

“How is Plantagenet?” asked the Duke.

“Answer for papa,” said Lady Glencora to her child.

“Papa is very well, but he almost never comes home.”

“He is working for his country,” said the Duke.  “Your papa is a busy, useful man, and can’t afford time to play with a little boy as I can.”

“But papa is not a duke.”

“He will be some day, and that probably before long, my boy.  He will be a duke quite as soon as he wants to be a duke.  He likes the House of Commons better than the strawberry leaves, I fancy.  There is not a man in England less in a hurry than he is.”

“No, indeed,” said Lady Glencora.

“How nice that is,” said Madame Goesler.

“And I ain’t in a hurry either,—­am I, mamma?” said the little future Lord Silverbridge.