The Duke, he sighed.
“In,” snapped the Duchess, “my company. And now,” she added calmly, “I will say good-bye.”
“Child,” said the Duke softly, “must you go? Must you really? Can’t I tempt you to stay? Very well, then,” said he, “good-bye.”
“Captain Tupper!” the Duchess called.
“Captain Tupper,” the Duchess said, “I am going ashore. You will please see to it at once. I think my maid has everything packed. Thank you.”
The Duke opened his eyes. It was an effort, for he was sleepy.
“Captain Tupper,” said he, “her Grace will take the fastest cutter to the town to catch the Blue Train to Calais. Should a sleeper on the Blue Train be unavailable, you will see to it that she is accommodated with one of a suitable colour. We, in the cool of the evening, will make for Naples. Thank you.”
The Duke closed his eyes again, for he was sleepy. The Duchess stared as though into the heart of the still blue bay, and who shall say what it was that she saw in that deep place, whether she saw the towers of her love torn down by the winds of man’s discontent, the ruins of her marriage washed in the infinite sea of man’s inconstancy? Her eyes darkened, and presently she said, bemused: “I am going now. Adieu, Maximilian.”
“Leonora,” he said, with closed eyes, “I wish you all happiness and content.”
“Content!” said she, and laughed.