soul in its agony, in that word of
complete and eternal separation, she has understood that we should meet
again soon,--this evening,--and leaves me tranquilly, and with a smile!
It does honour to my dissimulation. By heaven, I did not think that I
was so good an actor! But here is Lucenay."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BACHELORS' BREAKFAST.

M. de Lucenay came into the room.

The duke's wound had been so slight, that he did not even carry his arm
in a sling. His countenance was, as usual, mirthful, yet proud; his
motion perpetual; and his restlessness, as usual, unconquerable. In
spite of his awkwardness, his ill-timed pleasantries, and in spite of
his immense nose, which gave his face a grotesque and odd character, M.
de Lucenay was not, as we have already said, a vulgar person, thanks to
a kind of natural dignity and bold impertinence, which never forsook
him.

"How indifferent you must think me to what concerns you, my dear Henry!"
said M. d'Harville, extending his hand to M. de Lucenay; "but it was
only this morning that I heard of your unfortunate adventure."

"Unfortunate! Pooh--pooh, marquis! I had my money's worth, as they say.
I really never laughed so in my life. The worthy M. Robert was so
religiously determined to maintain that he never had a phlegmy cough, in
all his life,--but you do not know! This was the cause of the duel. The
other evening at the ---- embassy, I asked him, before your wife and the
Countess Macgregor, how his phlegmy cough was? _Inde irae!_ for, between
ourselves, he had nothing of the kind; but it was all the same, and, you
may suppose, to have such a thing alluded to before pretty women was
very provoking."

"How foolish! Yet it is so like you! But who is this M. Robert?"

"_Ma foi!_ I have not the slightest idea in the world. He is a person
whom I met at the Spas; he passed by us in the winter garden at the
embassy, and I called to him to play off this foolish jest, to which he
gallantly replied the next day by giving me a touch with his
sword-point. This is the history of our acquaintance. But let us speak
no more of such follies. I have come to ask you for a cup of tea."

So saying, M. de Lucenay flung himself down full length on the sofa;
after which, poking the point of his cane between the wall and the frame
of a picture hanging over his head, he began to move it about, and try
and balance the frame.

"I expected you, my dear Henry; and I have got up a surprise for yo