Duke had fled, and she could do nothing to-day; but to-morrow she would begin with her batteries.  And she herself had done the mischief!  She had invited this woman down to Matching!  Heaven and earth!—­that such a man as the Duke should be such a fool!—­The widow of a Jew banker!  He, the Duke of Omnium,—­and thus to cut away from himself, for the rest of his life, all honour, all peace of mind, all the grace of a noble end to a career which, if not very noble in itself, had received the praise of nobility!  And to do this for a thin, black-browed, yellow-visaged woman with ringlets and devil’s eyes, and a beard on her upper lip,—­a Jewess,—­a creature of whose habits of life and manners of thought they all were absolutely ignorant; who drank, possibly; who might have been a forger, for what any one knew; an adventuress who had found her way into society by her art and perseverance,—­and who did not even pretend to have a relation in the world!  That such a one should have influence enough to intrude herself into the house of Omnium, and blot the scutcheon, and,—­ what was worst of all,—­perhaps be the mother of future dukes!  Lady Glencora, in her anger, was very unjust to Madame Goesler, thinking all evil of her, accusing her in her mind of every crime, denying her all charm, all beauty.  Had the Duke forgotten himself and his position for the sake of some fair girl with a pink complexion and grey eyes, and smooth hair, and a father, Lady Glencora thought that she would have forgiven it better.  It might be that Madame Goesler would win her way to the coronet; but when she came to put it on, she should find that there were sharp thorns inside the lining of it.  Not a woman worth the knowing in all London should speak to her;—­nor a man either of those men with whom a Duchess of Omnium would wish to hold converse.  She should find her husband rated as a doting fool, and herself rated as a scheming female adventuress.  And it should go hard with Lady Glencora, if the Duke were not separated from his new Duchess before the end of the first year!  In her anger Lady Glencora was very unjust.

The Duke, when he left his house without telling his household whither he was going, did send his address to,—­the top brick of the chimney.  His note, which was delivered at Madame Goesler’s house late on the Sunday evening, was as follows:—­“I am to have your answer on Monday.  I shall be at Brighton.  Send it by a private messenger to the Bedford Hotel there.  I need not tell you with what expectation, with what hope, with what fear I shall await it.—­O.”  Poor old man!  He had run through all the pleasures of life too quickly, and had not much left with which to amuse himself.  At length he had set his eyes on a top brick, and being tired of everything else, wanted it very sorely.  Poor old man!  How should it do him any good, even if he got it?  Madame Goesler, when she received the note, sat with it in her hand, thinking of his great want.  “And