After a few moments the clerk introduced the Duchess de Lucenay, very modestly dressed, wrapped in a large shawl, her face completely concealed by a thick veil of black lace, which covered her moire hat of the same color. CHAPTER IX. THE DUCHESS DE LUCENAY. Madame de Lucenay slowly approached the desk, in an agitated manner; he advanced to meet her. "Who are you, madame, and what do you want with me?" said the notary, roughly, whose temper, already fretted by the threat of Sarah, was exasperated at the suspicions of Robert. Besides, the duchess was so modestly dressed, that the notary saw no reason why he should be civil to her. As she hesitated to speak, he said, even more harshly, "Will you explain yourself, madame?" "Sir," said she, in a trembling voice, trying to conceal her face under the folds of her veil, "Sir, can one confide a secret to you of the highest importance?" "Anything can be confided to me, madame, but I must see and know to whom I speak." "That, perhaps, is not necessary. I know that you are honor and loyalty itself." "Just so, madame, just so; there is some one there waiting. Who are you?" "My name is of no importance, sir. One of my friends--of my relations-- has just left you." "His name?" "M. Floreston de Saint Remy." "Ah!" said the notary, casting on the duchess an inquisitive and searching glance; then he resumed: "Well, madame!" "M. de Saint Remy has told me everything, sir." "What did he tell you?" "All!" "But what did he say?" "You know well." "I know many things about M. de Saint Remy." "Alas! sir, a terrible thing." "I know a great many terrible things about M. de Saint Remy." "Ah! sir, he told me truly--you are without pity." "For cheats and forgers like him, yes, I am without pity. Is Saint Remy your relation? Instead of confessing it, you ought to blush. Do you come here to weep, to soften me? It is useless; without saying that you are performing a wretched part for an honest woman, if you are one." This brutal insolence was revolting to the pride and patrician blood of the duchess. She drew herself up, threw her veil back, and with a proud look, and a firm, imperious voice, she said, "Sir, I am the Duchess of Lucenay." This woman assumed so haughty an air, her appearance became so imposing, that the notary, overcome, charmed, fell back astonished; took off, mechanically, his black silk cap, and saluted her profoundly. Nothing could be, indeed, more graceful and more majestic than the face and bearing of Madame de Lucenay; yet she was then over thirty years of age, with a pale face, appearing slightly fatigued; but she had large sparkling brown eyes, splendid black hair, a fine arched nose, a proud and ruby lip, dazzling complexion, very white teeth, tall and slender figure, a form like a "goddess on the clouds," as the immortal St. Simon says.