“Pooh! Monsieur Soi-disant, a fig for your gratitude! Would you have me inhospitable to a guest who would save me even the trouble of opening my door? And that, by the way, reminds me, monsieur, that you have not even hinted at what you might be seeking his Grace for? Could it be—could it be for a better fit in coats?”
“For a mere trifle, madame, no more than my sword.”
“Your sword, monsieur? I know nothing of Monsieur Soi-disant's sword, but I think I know where is one might serve his purpose.”
With these words she went out of the room, hurried along the corridor, and returned in a moment or two with Count Victor's weapon, which she dragged back by its belt as if she loathed an actual contact with the thing itself.
“There!” she said, affecting a shudder. “A mouse and a rapier, they are my bitterest horrors. If you could only guess what a coward I am! Good night, monsieur, and I hope—I hope”—she laughed as she hung on the wish a moment—“I hope you will meet his Grace on the way. If so, you may tell him 'tis rather inclement weather for the night air—at his age,” and she laughed again. “If you do not see him—as is possible—come back soon; look! my door bids you in your own language—Revenez bientôt. I am sure he will be charmed to see you, and to make his delight the more I shall never mention you were here tonight.”
She went along the lobby and looked down the stair to see that the way was clear; came back and offered her hand.
“Madame la Duchesse, you are very magnanimous,” he said, exceedingly grateful.
“Imprudent, rather,” she corrected him.
“Magnanimity and Prudence are cousins who, praise le bon Dieu! never speak to each other, and the world is very much better for it.” He pointed to the motto on the panel. “I may never come back, madame,” said he, “but at least I shall never forget.”
“Au plaisir de vous revoir, Monsieur Soi-disant,” she said in conclusion, and went into her room and closed the door.