The word of command was heard; and there was a sound of oars striking the water. A small boat came alongside, a rope was thrown out, and the ladder lowered; and Monseigneur, the Duke of Morgania, came up. The light fell full upon him. The duke bowed respectfully to the ladies, and shook the men by the hand, like a boon companion.
“I’m not putting you out too much, I hope?”
“We are delighted to see you,” said grandma. “Come into the music-room.”
“Don’t be alarmed, monseigneur; we shall not have music!” added Ethel.
“You are right,” said the duke; “no music is worth the sound of friendly voices. How happy I am to see you again! I thank you for coming,—I seem to be leaving my exile.”
The descendant of Morgana and of Rhodaïs offered his arm to grandma, to enter the salon. As soon as they were seated, conversation began, as if they had left each other but the day before; it was familiar and gay, as among members of the same social world.
“What is the news in Paris?”
“We do not come from there. Talk to us about the sorceress,” said Ethel.
“On the contrary, let us not speak of her! The country is upside down; every one is losing his head. I should not be astonished if, to-morrow, when the people see you, they should all cry, ‘Morgana!’”
“Why, that would amuse me immensely!” said Ethel. “How is it possible for you to be bored in such a country? It must be always interesting.”