"But I have!" cried some one from the door; and, turning, they beheld there on the threshold a handsome old lady, with hair snowy white, figure erect, face imperious—the Dowager Duchess of Markheim. Behind her, in the twilight of the hall, could be dimly seen the mustachios of Monsieur Tellier, with Glück's face glaring at him. "I am not so proud," she went on, advancing into the room. "I am quite willing to give my reasons for breaking off the match. Is this the girl?" she asked, abruptly.
Susie looked at her with fiery eyes; their glances crossed; one almost expected to see the sparks fly as of two blades meeting.
"I am not hard-hearted," continued the duchess, after a moment. "But there are certain affairs of state which must always take precedence of any mere personal inclination. Did I marry to please myself?" and her voice shook a little. "By no means—it is no secret. Yet I was faithful to my husband and to my house. I have never regretted it. Now all that I have left to love is that boy yonder, and I intend to see that he makes a match which is worthy of him. Yes, I love him—but he must not degrade his name—not even for his happiness. It was solicitude for him that brought me here—I feared—"
Her voice broke; perhaps she had a vision of that tragedy fifty years ago, when, at her mother's side, she had stared out through the mists of the morning—
"But no matter," she added, hastily.
"May I ask, madame," inquired Rushford, "how marriage with my daughter would degrade your nephew?"
"It is impossible, in the first place," she answered, readily, "that he should marry the daughter of an inn-keeper."
"Of an inn-keeper?" repeated Rushford, in a puzzled tone.
"You are the proprietor of this inn, are you not?" demanded the duchess. "Tellier, here has the papers. Come forward, Tellier."
"Oh, I understand," and Rushford laughed, not pleasantly. "No, I didn't tell you, Susie," he added, catching his daughter's astonished glance. "It was merely an escapade of mine. I was bored, and so I arranged with Pelletan to have a little fun by backing the hotel for a month—Pelletan had reached the end of his resources. He'd have had to shut up shop, and I didn't want to move. I assure you, madame, that at home I am not an inn-keeper. If I was, I shouldn't be in the least ashamed of it, unless I were a bad one. Suppose we pass on to the next count."