"Quite so," nodded the Duchess, "highly filial and very pious, oh, indeed, most righteous and laudable, but—there remains an eighthly, Barnabas."
"And pray, madam, what may that be?"
"What of Cleone?"
Now when the Duchess said this, Barnabas turned away to the window and leaning his head in his hands, was silent awhile.
"Cleone!" he sighed at last, "ah, yes—Cleone!"
"You love her, I suppose?"
"So much—so very much that she shall never marry an innkeeper's son, or a discredited—"
"Bah!" exclaimed the Duchess.
"Madam?"
"Don't be so hatefully proud, Barnabas."