"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."

"Was not the marchese in Paris at Easter?"

"He was. I saw him once at the Opera with the old Duke of Castelfranco."

"Just so. A quarrel about a dancing-girl at Paris at Easter. That was
how it was."

"You are right," said Michael, regaining his composure with an effort.
"I owed him a grudge. You will be careful to mention this to no one?"

"I will mention it only to one or two women on whom I can rely," said
the duke; "and to them only in the strictest confidence."

Michael nodded.

Silence fell between them, and he wondered why the duke did not go. The
warder shifted his feet in the passage.

Presently the duke began to speak in a low, even voice.

"I owe you an apology," he said. "I saw you standing behind the screen,
reflected in a little mirror, and for one moment I thought you had done
me a great injury. It was only for a moment. I regained myself quickly.
I would have saved you if I could. But I owe you an apology for a
suspicion unworthy of either of us."

"It was natural," said Michael. He was greatly drawn to this man.

"I may in some matters be deceived," continued the duke, "for in my time
I have deceived others, and have not been found out. I don't know why
you were in my wife's rooms that night. Nevertheless, I clearly know two
things: one, that you did not murder the marchese, and the other, that
there was nothing wrong between you and my wife. With you her honour was
safe. You and I are combining now to guard only her reputation before
the world."

Michael did not answer. He nodded again.

"At the price," continued the duke, "probably of your best years."

"I am content to pay the price," said Michael. "It was the only thing to
do." Then he coloured like a girl, and raised his eyes to the duke's. "I
went to her that night to say good-bye," he said. "That was why the
garden door was unlocked. I love her. I have loved her for years."

It seemed as if everything between the two men had become transparent.

"I know it," said the duke. "She also, the duchess, is in love with
you."

Michael drew back perceptibly. His manner changed.

"A little--not much," continued the duke. "I watched h