when I’m alone. You’ll be terribly uncomfortable, gentlemen. The whole household consists of an old man and five women—counting myself.”
“And are they all?” began Gustave.
“Discreet?” she asked, interrupting again. “Oh, they will not tell the truth! Never fear, my dear Gustave!”
“What news of the duke?” asked he, as we began to walk, the duchess stepping a little ahead of us.
“Oh, the best,” said she, with a nod over her shoulder. “None, you know. That’s one of your proverbs, Mr. Aycon?”
“Even a proverb is true sometimes,” I ventured to remark.
We reached the house and passed through the door, which stood wide open. Crossing the hall, we found ourselves in a small square room, furnished with rose-colored hangings. Here supper was spread. Gustave walked up to the table. The duchess flung herself into an armchair. She had taken her handkerchief out of her pocket, and she held it in front of her lips and seemed to be biting it. Her eyebrows were raised, and her face displayed a comical mixture of amusement and apprehension. A glance of her eyes at me invited me to share the perilous jest, in which Gustave’s demeanor appeared to bear the chief part.
Gustave stood by the table, regarding it with a puzzled air.
“One—two—three!” he exclaimed aloud, counting the covers laid.
