as it were, by the gentle
movement of the carriage, while the daylight left the darkening fields,
and let them see over towards the furnaces sudden flashes of flame and
flickering gleams like lightning against the sky. Unfortunately the
drive home was spoilt by the drunken cries and songs of the crowds
returning from the feast. The peasants got among the wheels of the
carriage like cattle, and from the ditches on either side of the road,
into which they rolled, came snores and grunts, their peculiar fashion
of praying for the repose of the soul of the most noble Lord Duke.

They walked, as usual, on the gallery, and the Duchess, leaning against
Paul's shoulder to look out at the darkness between the massive pillars
which cut the dim line of the horizon, murmured, 'This is happiness!
Together, and alone!' Still not a word on the subject which Paul was
waiting for. He tried to bring her to it, and with his lips in her hair
asked what she was going to do in the winter. Should she go back to
Paris? Oh, no! certainly not. She was sick of Paris and its false
society, its disguises and its treachery! She was still undecided,
however, whether to shut herself up at Mousseaux, or to set out on a
long journey to Syria and Palestine. What did he think? Why, this must
be the important decision they were to consider! It had been a mere
pretext to keep him there! She had been afraid that if he went back
to Paris, and away from her, some one else would carry him off! Paul,
thinking that he had been taken in, bit his lips as he said to himself,
'Oh, if that's your game, my lady, we'll see!' Tired by her journey
and a long day in the open air, the Duchess bid him good-night and went
wearily up to her room.

The next day they hardly met. The Duchess was busy settling accounts
with her steward and her tenants, much to the admiration of Maitre
Gobineau, the notary, who observed to Paul as they sat at breakfast,
with slyness marked in every wrinkle of his shrivelled old face, 'Ah,
it's not easy to get on the blind side of the Duchess!'

'Little he knows,' was the thought of the Duchess's young pursuer as he
played with his light brown beard. But when he heard the hard cold tones
which his lady's tender contralto could assume in a business discussion,
he felt that he would have to play his cards carefully.

After breakfast there arrived some trunks from Paris with Spricht's
forewoman and two fitters. And at last, about four o'clock, the D