The Indiscretion of the Duchess | Page 4

had no enthusiasms, few ambitions, no
illusions, and not many scandals. We keep our heads on our shoulders
and our purses in our pockets. We do not rise very high, but we have
never sunk. We abide at the Knoll from generation to generation,
deeming our continued existence in itself a service to the state and an
honor to the house. We think more highly of ourselves than we admit,
and allow ourselves to smile when we walk in to dinner behind the new
nobility. We grow just a little richer with every decade, and add a field
or two to our domains once in five years. The gaps made by falling
rents we have filled by judicious purchases of land near rising towns;
and we have no doubt that there lies before us a future as long and
prosperous as our past has been. We are not universally popular, and
we see in the fact a tribute to our valuable qualities.
I venture to mention these family virtues and characteristics because it
has been thought in some quarters that I displayed them but to a very
slight degree in the course of the expedition on which I was now
embarked. The impression is a mistaken one. As I have said before, I
did nothing that was not forced upon me. Any of my ancestors would, I
am sure, have done the same, had they chanced to be thrown under
similar circumstances into the society of Mme. de Saint-Maclou and of
the other persons whom I was privileged to meet; and had those other
persons happened to act in the manner in which they did when I fell in
with them.
Gustave maintained his gayety and good spirits unabated through the
trials of our voyage to Cherbourg. The mild mystery that attended our
excursion was highly to his taste. He insisted on our coming without
servants. He persuaded me to leave no address; obliged to keep himself
within touch of the Embassy, he directed letters to be sent to Avranches,
where, he explained, he could procure them; for, as he thought it safe to
disclose when a dozen miles of sea separated us from the possibility of
curious listeners, the house to which we were bound stood about ten
miles distant from that town, in a retired and somewhat desolate bit of

country lining the seashore.
"My sister says it is the most triste place in the world," said he; "but we
shall change all that when we arrive."
There was nothing to prevent our arriving very soon to relieve Mlle. de
Berensac's depression, for the middle of the next day found us at
Avranches, and we spent the afternoon wandering about somewhat
aimlessly and staring across the bay at the mass of Mont St. Michel.
Directly beneath us as we stood on the hill, and lying in a straight line
with the Mount, there was a large square white house, on the very edge
of the stretching sand. We were told that it was a convent.
"But the whole place is no livelier than one," said I, yawning. "My dear
fellow, why don't we go on?"
"It is right for you to see this interesting town," answered Gustave
gravely, but with a merry gleam in his eye. "However, I have ordered a
carriage, so be patient."
"For what time?"
"Nine o'clock, when we have dined."
"We are to get there in the dark, then?"
"What reason is there against that?" he asked, smiling.
"None," said I; and I went to pack up my bag.
In my room I chanced to find a femme-de-chambre. To her I put a
question or two as to the gentry of the neighborhood. She rattled me off
a few distinguished names, and ended:
"The duke of Saint-Maclou has also a small château."
"Is he there now?" I asked.
"The duchess only, sir," she answered. "Ah, they tell wonderful stories

of her!"
"Do they? Pray, of what kind?"
"Oh, not to her harm, sir; or, at least, not exactly, though to simple
country-folk--"
The national shrug was an appropriate ending.
"And the duke?"
"He is a good man," she answered earnestly, "and a very clever man.
He is very highly thought of at Paris, sir."
I had hoped, secretly, to hear that he was a villain; but he was a good
man. It was a scurvy trick to play on a good man. Well, there was no
help for it. I packed my bag with some dawning misgivings; the
chambermaid, undisturbed by my presence, went on rubbing the table
with some strong-smelling furniture polish.
"At least," she observed, as though there had been no pause, "he gives
much to the church and to the poor."
"It may be repentance," said I, looking up with a hopeful air.