"Indeed it is not curiosity—it is because I want to help—."
"Camouflage!"
I felt angry now.
"You assume that your secretary is a demoiselle du monde"—she went on—"if you have reached that far—you should know that there is some honor, some tenue left in old families,—and so you should treat her with consideration, and respect her incognito.—All this is not like you, my son!"
The Duchesse had dropped the "thee and thou"—it hurt me.
"I want to treat her with every respect—" I reiterated.
"Then believe me it is unnecessary for you to know her name—I am not altogether pleased with you, Nicholas."
"Dear Duchesse! that grieves me—I wish I could explain—I have only wanted to be kind—and I don't even know her address and could not send flowers when her brother died."
"They did not want flowers, perhaps—Take my advice—of the best I can give—Pay your secretary her wages—as high ones as she will accept—and then treat her as if she were fifty years old—and wore glasses!"
"She does wear glasses—abominable yellow horn rimmed spectacles!" I announced excitedly.—"Have you never seen them?"