"How is the duchess, Leblanc? Has she risen? Send some one to let her know that I have arrived," he exclaimed, hurriedly.
"Helas! Monseigneur!" answered the venerable old servant, in a distressed tone.
"What do you mean? Is the duchess ill? I got a letter from her yesterday, in which she said she was quite well. It met me at Marseilles. She continues well. I hope? Why don't you speak?" impatiently demanded the duke.
"Mille pardons. Monseigneur; but madame has gone," sadly replied Leblanc.
"What do you say?" exclaimed the duke, discrediting the evidence of his own ears.
"Mille pardons, Monsieur le Duc, Madame la Duchesse has gone."
"Gone! the duchess gone!" exclaimed the duke, in amazement, not unmixed with incredulity.
"Oui; Monseigneur."
"Gone! the duchess gone! Where?"
"Miserable that I am, Monseigneur, I do not know. I cannot tell. Will Monsieur le Duc deign to consult the coachman who drove Madame la Duchesse in the carriage when she left the house last night, not to return. He can probably give Monseigneur some information," respectfully suggested the old porter.