were the inhabitants
to do? They said to the judge, 'Please your judgeship, we have only one
tailor, and we have three shoemakers; if it is all the same to you,
please to hang one of the three shoemakers in the place of the tailor,
for two shoemakers are enough.' Do you understand the allegory, Conrad?"

"Yes, cousin."

"And you, Saint-Remy?"

"Quite."

"Her grace's carriage!" said one of the servants.

"But, I say, why haven't you put on your diamonds?" asked M. de Lucenay,
abruptly; "with that dress they would look remarkably well."

Saint-Remy shuddered.

"For the one poor time we are going out together," continued the duke,
"you might have done us the honour to wear your diamonds. The duchess's
diamonds are particularly fine. Did you ever see them, Saint-Remy?"

"Yes, he knows them well enough!" said Clotilde; and then she added,
"Your arm, Conrad."

M. de Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint-Remy, who could scarcely
repress his anger.

"Aren't you coming with us to the Sennevals, Saint-Remy?" inquired M. de
Lucenay.

"No, impossible," he replied, briefly.

"By the way, Saint-Remy, there's Madame de Senneval, too,--what, do I
say one? There's two--whom I would willingly sacrifice, for her husband
is also on my list."

"What list?"

"That of the people whom I should not have cared to see die, provided
D'Harville had been left to us."

At the moment when they were in the anteroom, and M. de Montbrison was
helping the duchess on with her mantle, M. de Lucenay, addressing his
cousin, said to him:

"Since you are coming with us, Conrad, desire your carriage to follow
ours; unless you will decide on coming, Saint-Remy, and then you shall
take me, and I will tell you another story quite as good as that of the
tailor."

"Thank you," said Saint-Remy, dryly, "I cannot accompany you."

"Well, then, good night, my dear fellow. Have you and my wife
quarrelled, for she is getting into her carriage without saying a word
to you?"

And at this moment, the duchess's berline having drawn up at the steps,
she entered it.

"Now, cousin," said Conrad, waiting for M. de Lucenay with an air of
deference.

"Get in! Get in!" said the duke, who had stopped a moment, and, from the
door, was contemplating the elegant equipage of the vicomte. "Are those
your grays, Saint-Remy?"

"Yes."

"And your jolly-looking Edwards! He's what I call a right sort of
coachman. How well he has his horses in hand! To do justic