There was a pause.
"You had no quarrel with the marchese, I presume?" said the duke significantly.
"On the contrary," said Michael; "it is not known, but I had."
"Just so. Just so. About a woman?"
Michael winced.
"About a horse," he said.
"No," said the duke, with decision. "Think again. Your memory does not serve you. It was about a woman. Was it not a dancing-girl?"
"I am not like that," said Michael, colouring.
"It is of no account what you are like, or what you are not like. What matters is that which is quickly believed. A quarrel about a woman is always believed, especially by women who think all turns on them. Were you not in Paris at Easter?"
"I was."