"Good heavens!" said Goring, "so there was. I say, Bradstock, what have you to say to that? I’d like to have a look at the infant. Damme, it’s a wonderful world!" And this bore its fruit afterward in scandal and conjecture, for Bob threw out hints about it. But in the meantime they could only talk, and presently they saw the marquis coming across the lawn. He kept on stopping and looking up at the sky, as if for help or a balloon, and he smote his breast repeatedly in a very peculiar fashion. "Queer cuss, Rivaulx," said Goring. "Takes it hard. Give me a light, Bob. Look at the Johnny smiting himself in the chest. What’s he thinking of now? Looks as if he was bound upon a desperate deed. Dear me, I hope there will be no bloodshed, Bradstock! I’m too old for bloodshed now. I won’t have duels in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, Bradstock, mind that." "All right," said Augustin, still looking at Rivaulx gesticulating violently in front of a large laurestinus. "Bob, give me those glasses." Through the glass Rivaulx’s face was plain to see. "Damn!" said Augustin to himself, "what’s up? He’s going to do something, something desperate. He is looking like a hero on a scaffold. He has an air of sad nobility. Oh, Pen, Pen!" Rivaulx advanced on the house with his head up. He came in and sent word to the collapsed duchess that he desired most humbly an audience with her. Bob listened. "He wanted to see granny," said Bob. "Let him," said the duke. "I don’t; I want peace." Titania sent down word that she would see him. "Poor sad Penelope, poor mournful Penelope!" said Rivaulx. "Ha, but I will save her from further woe!" He found Titania on a sofa, and he kissed her hand. This pleased poor Titania; it reminded her of her youth. "Oh, marquis, I am in despair!" she cried. "Despair not," said Rivaulx, as he stood up and smote his forehead, "despair not. All is not lost. But for me, I stand between two dreadful alternatives, and I have resolved to do my duty." There was an air of tragedy about him that covered him like a robe. Titania shivered. "What is it? What have you to tell me?" "Ah, what!" cried Rivaulx. "But I shall do it. I shall do it at once, immediately, if not sooner, as your poet says." "You won’t kill any one, at least not here," shrieked Titania. "Far from it," replied the marquis. "Oh, but it is terrible, for I have to smash, to break an oath. I swore not to reveal what I am about to reveal." "Good heavens!" said Titania. "Oh, what? Is it—can it be—no—" "Yes, yes," cried Rivaulx, "it is true; I own it!" "Own what, marquis?" He smote his breast and looked above her. "I am the man!" "Oh, what man?" squealed the duchess. "I am the husband—and—and—the father," said Rivaulx, with a gulp, as if he were swallowing an apple whole. "Of my Penelope?" "Yes, yes," said the marquis. "Say nothing. It is a secret, full of oaths. Why, I know not, but she, the dear, insists, and what am I?"