"Really, my lord, have you lost your wits?" said the duchess, shrugging her shoulders.
"It's true enough, though," continued the duke; "one would give twenty indifferent persons for one friend; eh, Saint-Remy?"
"It is the old story of the tailor over again. Do you know it, Conrad,--the story of the tailor?"
"You will understand the allegory at once. A tailor was going to be hanged; he was the only tailor in the village. What were the inhabitants to do? They said to the judge, 'Please your judgeship, we have only one tailor, and we have three shoemakers; if it is all the same to you, please to hang one of the three shoemakers in the place of the tailor, for two shoemakers are enough.' Do you understand the allegory, Conrad?"
"Her grace's carriage!" said one of the servants.
"But, I say, why haven't you put on your diamonds?" asked M. de Lucenay, abruptly; "with that dress they would look remarkably well."
"For the one poor time we are going out together," continued the duke, "you might have done us the honour to wear your diamonds. The duchess's diamonds are particularly fine. Did you ever see them, Saint-Remy?"
"Yes, he knows them well enough!" said Clotilde; and then she added, "Your arm, Conrad."
M. de Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint-Remy, who could scarcely repress his anger.
"Aren't you coming with us to the Sennevals, Saint-Remy?" inquired M. de Lucenay.
"By the way, Saint-Remy, there's Madame de Senneval, too,--what, do I say one? There's two--whom I would willingly sacrifice, for her husband is also on my list."
"That of the people whom I should not have cared to see die, provided D'Harville had been left to us."
At the moment when they were in the anteroom, and M. de Montbrison was helping the duchess on with her mantle, M. de Lucenay, addressing his cousin, said to him:
"Since you are coming with us, Conrad, desire your carriage to follow ours; unless you will decide on coming, Saint-Remy, and then you shall take me, and I will tell you another story quite as good as that of the tailor."
"Thank you," said Saint-Remy, dryly, "I cannot accompany you."
"Well, then, good night, my dear fellow. Have you and my wife quarrelled, for she is getting into her carriage without saying a word to you?"