The Indiscretion of the Duchess Part 8

"Here, you," said the duke to me, "you can make yourself scarce as soon as you like. I've got a better servant, aye, and a sober one. There's ten francs for you. Now be off!"

I felt it inc.u.mbent on me to appear a little aggrieved:

"Am I to go to-night?" I asked. "Where can I get to to-night, my lord?"

"What's that to me? I dare say if you stand old Jean a franc, he'll give you a lift to the nearest inn. Tell him he may take a farm-horse."

Really the duke was treating me with quite as much civility as I have seen many of my friends extend to their servants. I had nothing to complain of.

I bowed, and was about to turn away, when the d.u.c.h.ess appeared in the porch.

"What is it, Armand?" she asked. "You are sending Sampson away after all?"

"I could not deny your request," said he in mockery. "Moreover, I have found a better servant."

The stranger almost swept the ground in obeisance before the lady of the house.

"You are very changeable," said the d.u.c.h.ess.

I saw vexation in her face.

"My dearest, your s.e.x cannot have a monopoly of change. I change a bad servant--as you yourself think him--for a good one. Is that remarkable?"

The d.u.c.h.ess said not another word, but turned into the house and disappeared. The duke followed her. The stranger, with a bow to me, followed him. I was left alone.

"Certainly I am not wanted," said I to myself; and, having arrived at this conclusion, I sought out old Jean. The old fellow was only too ready to drive me to Avranches or anywhere else for five francs, and was soon busy putting his horse in the shafts. I sought out Suzanne, got her to smuggle my luggage downstairs, gave her a parting present, took off my livery and put on the groom's old suit, and was ready to leave the house of M. de Saint-Maclou.

At nine o'clock my short servitude ended. As soon as a bend in the road hid us from the house I opened my portmanteau, got out my own clothes, and, _sub aethere_, changed my raiment, putting on a quiet suit of blue, and presenting George Sampson's rather obtrusive garments (which I took the liberty of regarding as a perquisite) to Jean, who received them gladly. I felt at once a different being--so true it is that the tailor makes the man.

"You are well out of that," grunted old Jean. "If he'd discovered you, he'd have had you out and shot you!"

"He is a good shot?"

"_Mon Dieu_!" said Jean with an expressiveness which was a little disquieting; for it was on the cards that the duke might still find me out. And I was not a practiced shot--not at my fellow-men, I mean.

Suddenly I leaped up.

"Good Heavens!" I cried. "I forgot! The d.u.c.h.ess wanted me. Stop, stop!"

With a jerk Jean pulled up his horse, and gazed at me.

"You can't go back like that," he said, with a grin. "You'll have to put on these clothes again," and he pointed to the discarded suit.

"I very nearly forgot the d.u.c.h.ess," said I. To tell the truth, I was at first rather proud of my forgetfulness; it argued a complete triumph over that unruly impulse at which I have hinted. But it also smote me with remorse. I leaped to the ground.

"You must wait while I run back."

"He will shoot you after all," grinned Jean.

"The devil take him!" said I, picturing the poor d.u.c.h.ess utterly forsaken--at the mercy of Delha.s.ses, husband, and what not.

I declare, as my deliberate opinion, that there is nothing more dangerous than for a man almost to forget a lady who has shown him favor. If he can quite forget her--and will be so unromantic--why, let him, and perhaps small harm done. But almost--That leaves him at the mercy of every generous self-reproach. He is ready to do anything to prove that she was every second in his memory.

I began to retrace my steps toward the _chateau_.

"I shall get the sack over this!" called Jean.

"You shall come to no harm by that, if you do," I a.s.sured him.

But hardly had I--my virtuous pride now completely smothered by my tender remorse--started on my ill-considered return journey, when, just as had happened to Gustave de Berensac and myself the evening before, a slim figure ran down from the bank by the roadside. It was the d.u.c.h.ess. The short cut had served her. She was hardly out of breath this time; and she appeared composed and in good spirits.

"I thought for a moment you'd forgotten me, but I knew you wouldn't do that, Mr. Aycon."

Could I resist such trust?

"Forget you, madame?" I cried. "I would as soon forget--"

"So I knew you'd wait for me."

"Here I am, waiting faithfully," said I.

"That's right," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Take this, please, Mr. Aycon."

"This" was a small handbag. She gave it to me, and began to walk toward the cart, where Jean was placidly smoking a long black cheroot.

"You wished to speak to me?" I suggested, as I walked by her.

"I can do it," said the d.u.c.h.ess, reaching the cart, "as we go along."

Even Jean took his cheroot from his lips. I jumped back two paces.

"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed, "As we go along, did you say?"

"It will be better," said the d.u.c.h.ess, getting into the cart (una.s.sisted by me, I am sorry to say). "Because he may find out I'm gone, and come after us, you know."

Nothing seemed more likely; I was bound to admit that.

"Get in, Mr. Aycon," continued the d.u.c.h.ess. And then she suddenly began to talk English. "I told him I shouldn't stay in the house if Mlle. Delha.s.se came. He didn't believe me; well, he'll see now. I couldn't stay, could I?

Why don't you get in?"

Half dazed, I got in. I offered no opinion on the question of Mlle.

Delha.s.se: to begin with, I knew very little about it; in the second place there seemed to me to be a more pressing question.

"Quick, Jean!" said the d.u.c.h.ess.

And we lumbered on at a trot, Jean twisting his cheroot round and round, and grunting now and again. The old man's face said, plain as words.

"Yes, I shall get the sack; and you'll be shot!"

I found my tongue.