"Oh, why?"
"Because I do not like company."
"He is only one guest and will dine with us quietly. He will amuse you."
"No, he will not; he will bore me. I wish you would write and put him off."
"Impossible, my dear Valerie! What earthly excuse could I make for such an unpardonable piece of rudeness?"
"Tell him that I am ill, out of spirits, anything you like so that you tell him not to come."
"My dearest one, you certainly are ill and out of spirits, and very morbid besides. So much the more reason why you should be gently aroused and amused. Dinner parties weary and distress you; but the count's visit will relieve and amuse you."
"Oh! I do think I ought to know what is good for me and what I want better than any one else," exclaimed Valerie, speaking impatiently to the duke for the first time during their married life.
"But you don't, love; that is all. The count is coming to dine with us to-morrow. That is settled. Now, here we are at home," said the duke, as the carriage rolled through the massive archway and entered the court-yard of the magnificent Hotel de la Motte.