My lethargy had vanished; I was hot to be on my way again.
“Is the man mad?” he cried; and he put his horse to a quick walk to keep up with me.
I stopped short.
“It would take all day to tell you the story,” I said impatiently.
“Still I should like to know—”
“I can’t help it. Look here, Gustave, the duchess knows. Go and see her. I must go on now.”
Across the puzzled mournful eyes of the rejected lover and bewildered friend I thought I saw a little gleam.
“The duchess?” said he.
“Yes, she’s all alone. The duke’s not there.”
“Where is the duke?” he asked; but, as it struck me, now rather in precaution than in curiosity.