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As soon as we were alone, my dear Dubois asked me if I had sufficient proof of Le Duc's fidelity. "Well, my dear, he is a rascal and a profligate, full of impudence, sharp-witted, ignorant, a fearful liar, and nobody but myself has any power over him. However, he has one good quality, and that is blind obedience to my orders.
However, in the privacy of her room she became ashamed of the ease with which she had accepted the Duc's excuses and reflected on the trouble into which she might be plunged if she engaged in something she had always regarded with distaste and on the frightening misery which a jealous husband might inflict on her.
His was not the face of a parricide. "Lucas!" he cried, in a dearth of words. "Lucas!" I was staring at Lucas in thick bewilderment. The man was transformed from the one I knew. At M. le Duc's he had been pale, nervous, and shaken senselessly and contemptibly scared, as I thought, since he was warned of the danger and need not face it. But now he was another man.
And here we enter upon a most curious group of associated characters in Gothic as opposed to Greek architecture. If you have been able to read the article to which I referred you, 'Meneau, in M. Violet le Duc's dictionary, you know that one great condition of the perfect Gothic structure is that the stones shall be 'en de-lit, set up on end.
He paused, there was a curious stillness in the room, many eyes were lowered, and M. le Duc's composure was evidently not quite so absolute as usual.
Duc, with a rough gentleness, wiped off the blood and put the whisky-and-herbs to the sick man's lips, saying, in a fatherly way: "For why you do like that? You're a fool, Jimmy!" "I be, I be," said the old man in a whisper, and let his hand rest on Duc's shoulder. "I'll fix the bread sweet next time, Jimmy." "No, no," said the husky voice peevishly. "She'll do it Liddy'll do it. Liddy's comin'."
All her retort was to laugh in his face and order him out of her apartment. Violent scenes were everyday incidents. "The last one," says Saint-Simon, "was at Rambouillet; and, by a regrettable mishap, the Duchesse received a kick." The Duc's laggard courage was spurred to fight more than one duel for his wife's tarnished fame.
Convinced of the Duc's sincerity, the Princess, in spite of the resolution she had made at Champigny, began to feel in the depths of her heart something of what she had felt in the past. The Duc d'Anjou for his part, omitted nothing which could demonstrate his devotion in all the places where he could meet her.
I longed to speak to M. Lebel, to thank him for getting me such a marvel, and still more, to ask him some questions about her. After the supper had been taken away, she came to ask if I would have my hair put in curl papers. "It's Le Duc's business," I answered, "but if you like, it shall be yours for the future." She acquitted herself like an expert.
So much the easier, then, to cast me off when he had tired of me. My heart seethed with rage and bitterness against Monsieur, against the sentry, and, more than all, against the young Comte de Mar, who had flung me under the wheels. I had never before seen the Comte de Mar, that spoiled only son of M. le Duc's, who was too fine for the country, too gay to share his father's exile.
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