Worst of all, he had ridden away that morning without so much as a word to her; and she was angry at his obduracy and wounded by his neglect, and still more angry with herself for caring so much. Gabrielle, quick to notice the troubles of those about her, had seen Lucette’s woe-begone, doleful looks and questioned her before the Duke’s visit; but now for the moment she was wholly engrossed by the perplexity in which that visit had left her. “What can he want of me, Lucette?” she asked again and again, until Lucette had a suggestion to make, born of her own belief of the Duke’s purpose and intended as a warning for Gabrielle. “Why not take counsel of the Duchess? She is a true friend of yours, Gabrielle, and a good woman.” “It is a good thought. I will go to her to-day. I would give half my wealth to do what he proposes--to have a voice even for no more than a few short years in governing the people. I could do so much good.” “Would he keep his word, think you? I do not trust him. Truth and honour are not counted among his parts.” “You are suspicious. Why?” “To begin with, he is a man,” and Lucette nodded her head and stamped her foot petulantly. “Not always a quick path to your disfavour, coz,” said Gabrielle with a smile. “Denys is a man.” “Denys has a head of wood,” said Lucette, lapsing into her own wrongs for a moment. “Seeing the infinite uses to which we turn wood, I know not why we always liken it to stupidity. Whatever our good Denys’ head may be, his heart is staunch and true.” “We are not speaking of Denys but of the Duke, who has neither wooden head nor staunch heart--unless it be staunch to some cruel and treacherous purpose for his own game.” “I fear there is truth in your words; yet he spoke me fairly.” “Any man can do that,” exclaimed Lucette, with almost vicious emphasis. “But see the Duchess herself, tell her all that passed, and ask her. A wife should certainly know best how to interpret her husband’s words.” The advice was given with so much eagerness that Gabrielle turned and looked searchingly into her friend’s eyes. “Have you made a guess at his purpose and withhold it from me?” She asked so directly that Lucette winced, fearing that her own fears might be divined. She took shelter quickly in subterfuge, and lowering her eyes she dropped her head on Gabrielle’s shoulder and said with a deep sigh-- [Illustration: “WHAT A THING OF APRIL WEATHER, IS THIS LOVE OF YOURS, LUCETTE”] “Oh, Gabrielle, I am not myself; I am the most miserable girl on earth.” “What a thing of April weather is this love of yours! Smiles and tears, sunshine and drifting clouds; ever changing and plaguing, as it seems to me, coz.” “You will know some day, Gabrielle.”