hasse was at the hotel in Avranches, and had declined to go further on her journey to-day.
“At the hotel? Then you’ve seen her?” she burst out. “What is she like?”
“She is most extremely handsome,” said I. “Moreover, I am inclined to like her.”
The Mother Superior opened her lips—to reprove me, no doubt; but the duchess was too quick.
“Oh, you like her? Perhaps you’re going to desert me and go over to her?” she cried in indignation, that was, I think, for the most part feigned. Certainly the duchess did not look very alarmed. But in regard to what she said, the old lady was bound to have a word.
“What is Mr. Aycon to you, my child?” said she solemnly. “He is nothing—nothing at all to you, my child.”
“Well, I want him to be less than nothing to Mlle. Delhasse,” said the duchess, with a pout for her protector and a glance for me.
“Mlle. Delhasse is very angry with me just now,” said I.
“Oh, why?” asked the duchess eagerly.
“Because she gathered that I thought she ought to wait for an invitation from you, before she went to your house.”
“She should wait till the Day of Judgment!” cried the duchess.
“That would not matter,” observed the Mother Superior dryly.
Suddenly, without pretext or excuse, the duchess turned and walked very quickly—nay, she almost ran—away along the path that en-
