The Duke of Rosecouleur glanced around him approvingly upon the apartments. I believed that he had never seen anything more beautiful than the petite palace of Honoria, or more ravishing than herself. He said little, in a low voice, and always to one person at a time. His answers and remarks were simple and well-turned.
Dalton allowed the others to move on, and by a slight sign drew me to him.
"It is unexpected," he said, in a thoughtful manner, looking me full in the eyes.
"You knew the Duke of Rosecouleur in Europe?"
"At Paris, yes,—and in Italy he was a travel friend; but we heard lately that he had retired upon his estates in England; and certainly, he is the last person we looked for here."
"Unannounced."
"That is a part of the singularity."
"His name was not in the published list of arrivals; but he may have left
England incognito. Is a mistake possible?"
"No! there is but one such man in Europe;—a handsomer or a richer does not live."
"An eye of wonderful depth."