qualifying impression--as of power teased and fettered, a Samson among
the Philistines.

"My dear lady, good-night. I must go and fight with wild beasts in
Whitehall--worse luck! Ah, Duchess! All very well--but you can't
shirk either!"

So saying, Mr. Montresor shook hands with Mademoiselle Le Breton and
smiled upon the Duchess--both actions betraying precisely the same
degree of playful intimacy.

"How did you find Lady Henry?" said Mademoiselle Le Breton, in a lowered
voice.

"Very well, but very cross. She scolds me perpetually--I haven't got a
skin left. Ah, Sir Wilfrid!--_very_ glad to see you! When did you
arrive? I thought I might perhaps find you at the Foreign Office."

"I'm going on there presently," said Sir Wilfrid.

"Ah, but that's no good. Dine with me to-morrow night?--if you are free?
Excellent!--that's arranged. Meanwhile--send him in, mademoiselle--send
him in! He's fresh--let him take his turn." And the Minister, grinning,
pointed backward over his shoulder towards an inner drawing-room, where
the form of an old lady, seated in a wheeled invalid-chair between two
other persons, could be just dimly seen.

"When the Bishop goes," said Mademoiselle Le Breton, with a laughing
shake of the head. "But I told him not to stay long."