Part 22 (1/2)

”And she? What says she to you?”

I looked up with a start, and met his searching wrathful gaze. I shook my head; his question was new to me--new and disturbing.

”I don't know,” said I; and on that we sat in silence for many moments.

Then he rose abruptly and stood beside me.

”Mr. Aycon,” he said, in the smoother tones in which he had begun our curious interview, ”I came near a little while ago to doing a ruffianly thing, of a sort I am not wont to do. We must fight out our quarrel in the proper way. Have you any friends in the neighborhood?”

”I am quite unknown,” I answered.

He thought for an instant, and then continued:

”There is a regiment quartered at Pontorson, and I have acquaintances among the officers. If agreeable to you, we will drive over there; we shall find gentlemen ready to a.s.sist us.”

”You are determined to fight?” I asked.

”Yes,” he said, with a snap of his lips. ”Have we not matters enough and to spare to fight about?”

”I can't of course deny that you have a pretext.”

”And I, Mr. Aycon, know that I have also a cause. Will this morning suit you?”

”It is hard on two now.”

”Precisely. We have time for a little rest; then I will order the carriage and we will drive together to Pontorson.”

”You mean that I should stay in your house?”

”If you will so far honor me. I wish to settle this affair at once, so as to be moving.”

”I can but accept.”

”Indeed you could hardly get back to Avranches, if, as I presume, you came on foot. Ah! you've never told me why you wished to see Jean;” and he turned a questioning look on me again, as he walked toward the door of the cottage.

”It was--” I began.

”Stay; you shall tell me in the house. Shall I lead the way? Ah, but you know it!” and he smiled grimly.

With a bow, I preceded him along the little path where I had once waited for the d.u.c.h.ess, and where Pierre, the new servant, had found me. No words pa.s.sed between us as we went. The duke advanced to the door and unlocked it. We went in, n.o.body was about, and we crossed the dimly lighted hall into the small room where supper had been laid for three (three who should have been four) on the night of my arrival. Meat, bread, and wine stood on the table now, and with a polite gesture the duke invited me to a repast.

I was tired and hungry, and I took a hunch of bread and poured out some wine.

”What keeps Jean, I wonder?” mused the duke, as he sat down. ”Perhaps he has found her!” and a gleam of eager hope flashed from his eyes.

I made no comment--where was the profit in more sparring of words? I munched my bread and drank my wine, thinking, by a whimsical turn of thought, of Gustave de Berensac and his horror at the table laid for three. Soon I laid down my napkin, and the duke held out his cigarette case toward me:

”And now, Mr. Aycon, if I'm not keeping you up--”