that you are very much to blame. You have led this innocent, though thoughtless, child into most deplorable conduct.”
(“Well done, little duchess!” said I to myself; but of course I was not going to betray her.)
“I deeply regret my thoughtlessness,” said I earnestly. “I would, however, observe that the present position of the duchess is not due to my—shall we say misconduct?—but to that of her husband. I did not invite——”
“Don’t mention her name!” interrupted the Mother Superior in horror.
We had reached the arched gateway; and there appeared standing within it a figure most charmingly inappropriate to a graveyard—the duchess herself, looking as fresh as a daisy, and as happy as a child with a new toy. She ran to me, holding out both hands and crying:
“Ah, my dear, dear Mr. Aycon, you are the most delightful man alive! You come at the very moment I want you.”
“Be sober, my child, be sober!” murmured the old lady.
“But I want to hear,” expostulated the duchess. “Do you know anything, Mr. Aycon? What has been happening up at the house? What has the duke done?”
As the duchess poured out her questions, we passed through the gate; the ladies sat down on a stone bench just inside, and I, standing, told my story. The duchess was amused to hear of old Jean’s chase of her; but she showed no astonishment till I told her that Marie Del-
