dignity of attitude seemed to fall away from him as he
vainly tried to solve this portentous problem. His mouth felt dry and
his head hot, and he did not know on which foot he could stand with the
least possible discomfort, and how he could contrive to hide from Madame
la Duchesse's piercing eyes that very obvious patch in the right knee of
his breeches.

"Madame la Duchesse will forgive me, I hope," he stammered painfully.

But already Madame's kind old face had shed its mask of raillery.

"Never mind, Hector," she said gently, "you are a good fellow, and
there's no occasion to tell me lies about the rich liveries which are
put away somewhere, nor about the numerous retinue and countless number
of flunkeys, all of whom are having unaccountably long holidays just
now. It's no use trying to throw dust in my eyes, my poor friend, or put
on that pompous manner with me. I know that the carpets are not all
temporarily rolled up or the best of the furniture at a repairer's in
Grenoble--what's the use of pretending with me, old Hector? Those days
at Worcester are not so distant yet, are they? when all the family had
to make a meal off a pound of sausages, or your wife Jeanne, God bless
her! had to pawn her wedding-ring to buy M. le Comte de Cambray a
second-hand overcoat."

"Madame la Duchesse, I humbly pray your Grace . . ." entreated Hector
whose wrinkled, parchment-like face had become the colour of a peony,
and who, torn between the respect which he had for the great lady and
his horror at what she said was ready to sink through the floor in his
confusion.

"Eh what, man?" retorted the Duchesse lightly, "there is no one but
these bare walls to hear me; and my words, you'll find, will clear the
atmosphere round you--it was very stifling, my good Hector, when I
arrived. There now!" she added, "announce me to M. le Comte and then go
down to Jeanne and tell her that I for one have no intention of
forgetting Worcester, or the pawned ring, or the sausages, and that the
array of Grenoble louts dressed up for the occasion in moth-eaten
liveries dragged up out of some old chests do not please me half as much
round a dinner table as did her dear old, streaming face when she used
to bring us the omelette straight out of the kitchen."

She dropped her lorgnon, and folding her aristocratic hands upon her
bosom, she once more assumed the grand manner pertaining to Versailles,
and Hector having swallowed an uncomfortable lump in hi