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Updated: May 28, 2025
On emerging into the Rue Saint-Andre-des-Arcs, Captain Phoebus perceived that some one was following him. On glancing sideways by chance, he perceived a sort of shadow crawling after him along the walls. He halted, it halted; he resumed his march, it resumed its march. This disturbed him not overmuch. "Ah, bah!" he said to himself, "I have not a sou." He paused in front of the College d'Autun.
He explained then that the handsome brunette was a widow, a certain Baronne d'Autun, noted for her hunting and her conquests; the last on the latter list was Monsieur d'Agreste, a former admirer of the countess; he was somewhat famous as a scientist and socialist, so good a socialist as to refuse to wear his title of duke.
With them were the Comte d'Autun, an elegant young Frenchman, well known at the tables, and Madame Tavera, a very chic person who was one of the most admired visitors of that season. They were only idling and watching the players at the end table, where a stout, bearded Russian was making some sensational coups en plein. Presently Hugh succeeded in getting Dorise alone.
She told me she intended to ask you to have a seat in the car. The Comte d'Autun is coming with us." "Ah! He admires you, Dorise, hence I don't like him," Hugh blurted forth. "But, surely, you're not jealous, you dear old thing!" laughed the girl, tantalizing him.
The archdeacon had just seated himself, by the light of a three-jetted copper lamp, before a vast coffer crammed with manuscripts. He had rested his elbow upon the open volume of Honorius d'Autun, De predestinatione et libero arbitrio, and he was turning over, in deep meditation, the leaves of a printed folio which he had just brought, the sole product of the press which his cell contained.
But we can, nevertheless, be rich, if we look always to the main chance and make the best of our opportunities," her mother said meaningly. At that moment the Count d'Autun approached them. He was dressed as a pierrot, but being masked was only recognizable by the fine ruby ring upon his finger. "Will mademoiselle do me the honour?" he said in French, bowing elegantly.
The man with her was the Count d'Autun. The white cavalier pretended to take no interest in them, but was, nevertheless, watching intently. At last he saw the girl's partner bow, and leaving her, he crossed to greet a stout Frenchwoman in a plain domino. In a moment the cavalier was at the girl's side. "Please do not betray surprise, Miss Ranscomb," he said in a low, refined voice.
The solitude of our lives had also been considerably increased by the deaths of five Autunois friends, and by the departure of M. Schmitt with his family. My husband wrote to him: "Vous me demandez des nouvelles d'Autun, mais depuis votre depart nous y allons le moins possible. Je n'ai rien a y faire, presque plus personne a y voir.
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