“Any man can do that,” exclaimed Lucette, with almost vicious emphasis. “But see the Duchess herself, tell her all that passed, and ask her. A wife should certainly know best how to interpret her husband’s words.”
The advice was given with so much eagerness that Gabrielle turned and looked searchingly into her friend’s eyes.
“Have you made a guess at his purpose and withhold it from me?” She asked so directly that Lucette winced, fearing that her own fears might be divined. She took shelter quickly in subterfuge, and lowering her eyes she dropped her head on Gabrielle’s shoulder and said with a deep sigh—
“WHAT A THING OF APRIL WEATHER, IS THIS LOVE
OF YOURS, LUCETTE”
“Oh, Gabrielle, I am not myself; I am the most miserable girl on earth.”
“What a thing of April weather is this love of yours! Smiles and tears, sunshine and drifting clouds; ever changing and plaguing, as it seems to me, coz.”
“You will know some day, Gabrielle.”
“I could hope not, indeed. It seems to me the world has sterner work for some of us women than to be plaguing our wits to please a man or pleasing ourselves by plaguing him. I would gladly give up all if I could help my people in Morvaix here. Little did the Duke think how nearly his offer touched me.”
“Did you think so sternly yesterday, Gabrielle, after that chance encounter in the market place?”