Part 59 (1/2)

”She is more. She is a d.u.c.h.ess.”

The carriage disappeared: The rumbling of its wheels died away in the distance.

Ursus remained some moments in an ecstasy, holding the gold piece between his finger and thumb, as in a monstrance, elevating it as the priest elevates the host.

Then he placed it on the table, and, as he contemplated it, began to talk of ”Madam.”

The innkeeper replied,--

”She was a d.u.c.h.ess.” Yes. They knew her t.i.tle. But her name? Of that they were ignorant. Master Nicless had been close to the carriage, and seen the coat of arms and the footmen covered with lace. The coachman had a wig on which might have belonged to a Lord Chancellor. The carriage was of that rare design called, in Spain, _cochetumbon_, a splendid build, with a top like a tomb, which makes a magnificent support for a coronet. The page was a man in miniature, so small that he could sit on the step of the carriage outside the door. The duty of those pretty creatures was to bear the trains of their mistresses. They also bore their messages. And did you remark the plumed cap of the page? How grand it was! You pay a fine if you wear those plumes without the right of doing so. Master Nicless had seen the lady, too, quite close. A kind of queen. Such wealth gives beauty. The skin is whiter, the eye more proud, the gait more n.o.ble, and grace more insolent.

Nothing can equal the elegant impertinence of hands which never work.

Master Nicless told the story of all the magnificence, of the white skin with the blue veins, the neck, the shoulders, the arms, the touch of paint everywhere, the pearl earrings, the head-dress powdered with gold; the profusion of stones, the rubies, the diamonds.

”Less brilliant than her eyes,” murmured Ursus.

Gwynplaine said nothing.

Dea listened.

”And do you know,” said the tavern-keeper, ”the most wonderful thing of all?”

”What?” said Ursus.

”I saw her get into her carriage.”

”What then?”

”She did not get in alone.”

”Nonsense!”

”Some one got in with her.”

”Who?”

”Guess.”

”The king,” said Ursus.

”In the first place,” said Master Nicless, ”there is no king at present.

We are not living under a king. Guess who got into the carriage with the d.u.c.h.ess.”

”Jupiter,” said Ursus.

The hotel-keeper replied,--

”Tom-Jim-Jack!”