He was evidently doing his best to put on an air of tenderness and affection, but he failed; for though his words were kind, the tone of his voice was neither tender nor sympathetic.

“I hope I know my duty,” said the Duchess.

“Pray, Marie,” broke in he, “do not let the word duty be uttered between us.  You know that you have been much alone, because it was impossible for the friends of Mademoiselle de Puymandour to be those of the Duchess de Champdoce!”

“Have I made any opposition to your orders?”

“Then, too, our mourning prevents us going out into the world for five months longer at least.”

“Have I asked to go out?”

“All the more reason that I should endeavor to make your home less dull for you.  I should like you to have with you some person in whose society you could find pleasure and distraction.  Not one of those foolish girls who have no thought save for balls and dress, but a sensible woman of the world, and, above all, one of your own age and rank,—­a woman, in short, of whom you could make a friend.  But where can such a one be found?  It is a perilous quest to venture on, and upon such a friend often depends the happiness and misery of a home.

“But,” continued he, after a brief pause, “I think that I have discovered the very one that will suit you.  I met her at the house of Madame d’Ailange, who spoke eloquently of her charms of mind and body, and I hope to have the pleasure of presenting her to you to-day.”

“Here, at our house?”

“Certainly; there is nothing odd in this.  Besides, the lady is no stranger to us; she comes from our own part of the country, and you know her.”

A flush came over his face, and he busied himself with the fire to conceal it as he added,—­

“You recollect Mademoiselle de Laurebourg?”

“Do you mean Diana de Laurebourg?”

“Exactly so.”

“I saw very little of her, for my father and hers did not get on very well together.  The Marquis de Laurebourg looked on us as too insignificant to—­”

“Ah, well,” interrupted he, “I trust that the daughter will make up for the father’s shortcomings.  She married just after our wedding had been celebrated, and her husband is the Count de Mussidan.  She will call on you to-day, and I have told your servants to say that you are at home.”

The silence that followed this speech lasted for nearly a couple of minutes, and became exceedingly embarrassing, when suddenly the sound of wheels was heard on the gravel of the courtyard, and in a moment afterwards a servant came and announced that the Countess de Mussidan was in the drawing-room.  Norbert rose, and, taking his wife’s arm, led her away.

“Come, Marie, come,” said he; “she has arrived.”