They entered the thicket, holding each other close, in silence. When they came to the clearing they stopped short. The Duke was there, stretched out upon the bench, smoking, dreaming. He got up, surprised, and apologized. "I had just come back here to live over an unforgettable moment." "This corner must be the rendezvous for the slaves of the little god," said Maurice, bowing to the statuette of _Love Enchained_. "We will leave you." "No," said the Duke quickly, "Please stay. Your happiness shows me the vision of which I dreamed. Art is the inspiration of the beautiful, and I believe, that artists have a more delicate sense of love than other people. "I believe, in truth," said Maurice, "that artists, move in a much larger world than that which is inhabited by either the bourgeoisie or the aristocracy." They talked for a long time, and returned to the Château together. Albert was beneath the green oak, talking to the Dowager Duchess, who was telling him how much she admired Genevieve. She had repeated her poem so wonderfully to her alone that morning! They did not see the trio emerge from the thicket, and Maurice was glad of it. He felt more and more constrained. The complicity against the poor fellow's happiness seemed to him a form of treason. He looked at his watch. It was only five o'clock. "That is impossible. This watch must have stopped." The Duke went to his room. His man gave him an elegant little note, and as his master threw it down on the table, "They await an answer." "Very well, I will send one." The servant withdrew. On the stair he met an English maid waiting the answer. "Monsieur will send an answer." "The Countess will be displeased. These French gentlemen are more gallant but less polite than our English lords. She is as much in love as Love itself." "He also is in love." "Then it ought to be easy enough, for Madame is a widow." "But it is not your mistress that he loves." "Ah! who then?" "Ah! nothing for nothing." And he held out his hands. "Ah! shocking!" "Very well," and he started, as if to return to his master. She stopped him. "Monsieur, Gustave you know very well that I am promised." "Nothing for nothing." Again he held out his hands. She hesitated a moment, looking up and down, and then let him have her finger tips. With a brutal gesture he caught her to him and kissed her furiously. The little English maid, blushing and rumpled, drew back and announced coldly, "You French are brutes. Now, the information I paid for in advance." "Very well. He is in love with little Esperance Darbois." "The actress? But she is engaged to Count Styvens." "It is the truth I have told you," replied the valet, proud of his own importance, "and if you will meet me in the grove, during dinner, I will tell you some more." "Thanks, I know enough now," said the maid dryly, leaving him.