“Meanwhile,” the duke added, “you must consider yourselves quite safe in my stronghold, where I shall be greatly honored to offer you hospitality. Your rooms will be as large as churches, and you shall have an immense stone staircase for yourselves alone.”
“You must be kind enough to excuse me, Monsieur le Duc,” said grandma.
“Well, Morgania is yours!” the duke answered, as he rose to take his departure. “I shall be only too happy to be useful to you,—you must dispose of me at your pleasure!”
As the duke crossed the threshold, he saw Sœurette running by.
“I know that child,” said the duke.
“And her sister also!” Ethel said, repressing a smile, for Parisian gossip had informed her of the duke’s admiration for Helia. “She is on board, traveling with us.”
“Let her, too, come to the castle,” said the duke. “The little girl will be charming company for my son; his life is not any too gay, and with these continual troubles the future is still darker for a ducal heir.”
“Poor child!” said grandma.
The duke, before he left them, insisted again on the danger of excursions. He was getting ready to go down when Helia appeared, looking for Sœurette.
“Mlle. Helia,” said the duke, “I am happy to see you again,” and he bowed to her with his perfect tact.