"As a servant?" "Why not--in such good company?" "Does madame know?" "Yes, she knows, Suzanne. Come, show me the way to my quarters; and no more 'sir' just now." We were standing by the stairs. I looked up and saw the other girls clustered on the landing above us. "Go and tell them," I said. "Warn them to show no surprise. Then come back and show me the way." Suzanne, her mirth half-startled out of her but yet asserting its existence in dimples round her mouth, went on her errand. I leaned against the lowest baluster and waited. Suddenly the door of the duchess' room was flung open and she came out. She stood for an instant on the threshold. She turned toward the interior of the room and she stamped her foot on the parqueted floor. "No--no--no!" she said passionately, and flung the door close behind her, to the accompaniment of a harsh, scornful laugh. Involuntarily I sprang forward to meet her. But she was better on her guard than I. "Not now," she whispered, "but I must see you soon--this evening--after dinner. Suzanne will arrange it. You must help me, Mr. Aycon; I'm in trouble." "With all my power!" I whispered, and with a glance of thanks she sped upstairs. I saw her stop and speak to the group of girls, talking to them in an eager whisper. Then, followed by two of them, she pursued her way upstairs. Suzanne came down and approached me, saying simply, "Come," and led the way toward the servants' quarters. I followed her, smiling; I was about to make acquaintance with a new side of life. Yet at the same time I was wondering who Mlle. Delhasse might chance to be: the name seemed familiar to me, and yet for the moment I could not trace it. And then I slapped my thigh in the impulse of my discovery. "By Jove, Marie Delhasse the singer!" cried I, in English. "Sir, sir, for Heaven's sake be quiet!" whispered Suzanne. "You are perfectly right," said I, with a nod of approbation. "And this is the pantry," said Suzanne, for all the world as though nothing had happened. "And in that cupboard you will find Sampson's livery." "Is it a pretty one?" I asked. "You, sir, will look well in it," said she, with that delicate evasive flattery that I love. "Would not you, sir, look well in anything?" she meant. And while I changed my traveling suit for the livery, I remembered more about Marie Delhasse, and, among other things, that the Duke of Saint-Maclou was rumored to be her most persistent admirer. Some said that she favored him; others denied it with more or less conviction and indignation. But, whatever might chance to be the truth about that, it was plain that the duchess had something to say for herself when she declined to receive the lady. Her refusal was no idle freak, but a fixed determination, to which she would probably adhere. And, in fact, adhere to it she did, even under some considerable changes of circumstance. CHAPTER V. A Strategic Retreat.