"If that Corsican brigand dares to set his foot again upon this land . . ." began the old lady vehemently. "Let him come, _ma tante_," broke in Crystal exultantly, "we are ready for him. Let him come, and this time when God has punished him again, it won't be to Elba that he will be sent to expiate his villainies!" "Amen to that, my child," concluded Madame fervently. "And now, my dear, don't let me forget the hour of my audience. Hector will be back in a moment or two, and I must not lose any more time gossiping. But before I go, little one, will you tell me one thing?" "Of course I will, _ma tante_." "Quite frankly?" "Absolutely." "Well then, I want to know . . . about that English friend of yours. . . ." "Mr. Clyffurde, you mean?" asked Crystal. "What about him?" "I want to know, my dear, what I ought to make of this Mr. Clyffurde." Crystal laughed lightly, and looked up with astonished, inquiring, wide-open eyes to her aunt. "What should you want to make of him, _ma tante_?" she asked, wholly unperturbed under the scrutinising gaze of Madame. "Nothing," said the Duchesse abruptly. "I have had my answer, thank you, dear." Evidently she had no intention of satisfying the girl's obvious curiosity, for she suddenly rose from her chair, gathered her lace shawl round her shoulders, and said with abrupt transition: "The hour for my audience is at hand. Not one minute must I keep my august brother waiting. I can hear Hector's footsteps in the corridor, and I will not have him see me in a fluster." Crystal looked as if she would have liked to question Madame a little more closely about her former cryptic utterance, but there was something in the sarcastic twinkle of those sharp eyes which caused the young girl to refrain from too many questions, and--very wisely--she decided to hold her peace. Madame la Duchesse threw a quick glance into the gilt-framed mirror close by. She smoothed a stray wisp of hair which had escaped from under her lace cap: she gave a tug to her fichu and a pat to her skirts. Then, as the folding doors were once more thrown open, and Hector--stiff, solemn and pompous--appeared under the lintel, Madame threw back her head in the grand manner pertaining to the old days at Versailles. "Precede me, Hector," she said with consummate dignity, "to M. le Comte's audience chamber." And with hands folded before her, her aristocratic head very erect, her mouth and eyes composed to reposeful majesty, she sailed out through the mahogany doors in a style which no one who had never curtsied to the Bien-aimé Monarque could possibly hope to imitate. II For some little while after her aunt had sailed out of the room Crystal remained where she was sitting on the low stool beside the high-backed chair just vacated by the Duchess.