The duke's wound had been so slight, that he did not even carry his arm in a sling. His countenance was, as usual, mirthful, yet proud; his motion perpetual; and his restlessness, as usual, unconquerable. In spite of his awkwardness, his ill-timed pleasantries, and in spite of his immense nose, which gave his face a grotesque and odd character, M. de Lucenay was not, as we have already said, a vulgar person, thanks to a kind of natural dignity and bold impertinence, which never forsook him.
"How indifferent you must think me to what concerns you, my dear Henry!" said M. d'Harville, extending his hand to M. de Lucenay; "but it was only this morning that I heard of your unfortunate adventure."
"Unfortunate! Pooh—pooh, marquis! I had my money's worth, as they say. I really never laughed so in my life. The worthy M. Robert was so religiously determined to maintain that he never had a phlegmy cough, in all his life,—but you do not know! This was the cause of the duel. The other evening at the —— embassy, I asked him, before your wife and the Countess Macgregor, how his phlegmy cough was? Inde iræ! for, between ourselves, he had nothing of the kind; but it was all the same, and, you may suppose, to have such a thing alluded to before pretty women was very provoking."
"How foolish! Yet it is so like you! But who is this M. Robert?"
"Ma foi! I have not the slightest idea in the world. He is a person whom I met at the Spas; he passed by us in the winter garden at the embassy, and I called to him to play off this foolish jest, to which he gallantly replied the next day by giving me a touch with his sword-point. This is the history of our acquaintance. But let us speak no more of such follies. I have come to ask you for a cup of tea."
So saying, M. de Lucenay flung himself down full length on the sofa; after which, poking the point of his cane between the wall and the frame of a picture hanging over his head, he began to move it about, and try and balance the frame.
"I expected you, my dear Henry; and I have got up a surprise for you," said M. d'Harville.
"Ah, bah! and in what way?" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, giving to the picture a very doubtful kind of balance.
"You will unquestionably unhook that picture, and let it down on your head."
"Pardieu! I believe you are right. What an eagle's eye you have! But, tell me, what is this surprise of yours?"