And this bore its fruit afterward in scandal and conjecture, for Bob threw out hints about it. But in the meantime they could only talk, and presently they saw the marquis coming across the lawn. He kept on stopping and looking up at the sky, as if for help or a balloon, and he smote his breast repeatedly in a very peculiar fashion.
"Queer cuss, Rivaulx," said Goring. "Takes it hard. Give me a light, Bob. Look at the Johnny smiting himself in the chest. What's he thinking of now? Looks as if he was bound upon a desperate deed. Dear me, I hope there will be no bloodshed, Bradstock! I'm too old for bloodshed now. I won't have duels in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, Bradstock, mind that."
"All right," said Augustin, still looking at Rivaulx gesticulating violently in front of a large laurestinus. "Bob, give me those glasses."
Through the glass Rivaulx's face was plain to see.
"Damn!" said Augustin to himself, "what's up? He's going to do something, something desperate. He is looking like a hero on a scaffold. He has an air of sad nobility. Oh, Pen, Pen!"
Rivaulx advanced on the house with his head up. He came in and sent word to the collapsed duchess that he desired most humbly an audience with her. Bob listened.
"He wanted to see granny," said Bob.
"Let him," said the duke. "I don't; I want peace."
Titania sent down word that she would see him.
"Poor sad Penelope, poor mournful Penelope!" said Rivaulx. "Ha, but I will save her from further woe!"