To this sally there succeeded a somewhat awkward pause, Scaresby occupying himself with thoughts of some perfectly safe vengeance.
“I shouldn't wonder if it was that Count Marsano—that fellow who used to be about the Nina long ago—come back again. He was at Como this summer, and made many inquiries after his old love!”
A most insulting stare of defiance was the only reply the old Duke could make to what he would have been delighted to resent as a personal affront.
“Marsano is a mauvais drôle,” said a Russian; “and if a woman slighted him, or he suspected that she did, he's the very man to execute a vengeance of the kind.”
“I should apply a harsher epithet to a man capable of such conduct,” said the Duke.
“He 'd not take it patiently, Duke,” said the other.
“It is precisely in that hope, sir, that I should employ it,” said the Duke.
Again was the conversation assuming a critical turn, and again an interval of ominous silence succeeded.
“There is but one carriage now in the court, your Excellency,” said the servant, addressing the Duke in a low voice, “and the gentleman inside appears to be seriously ill. It might be better, perhaps, not to detain him.”
“Of course not,” said the Duke; “but stay, I will go down myself.”