There seemed nothing more to be done. The duchess herself did not propose
to defy conventionality to the extent of inviting me to stay. To do her
justice, as soon as the inevitable was put before her, she accepted it
with good grace, and, after supper, busied herself in discovering the time
and manner in which her guests might pursue their respective journeys. I
may be flattering myself, but I thought that she displayed a melancholy
satisfaction on discovering that Gustave de Berensac must leave at ten
o'clock the next morning, whereas I should be left to kick my heels in
idleness at Cherbourg if I set out before five in the afternoon.

"Oh, you can spend the time _en route_," said Gustave. "It will be
better."

The duchess looked at me; I looked at the duchess.

"My dear Gustave," said I, "you are very considerate. You could not do
more if I also were in love with Lady Cynthia."

"Nor," said the duchess, "if I were quite unfit to be spoken to."

"If my remaining till the afternoon will not weary the duchess--" said I.

"The duchess will endure it," said she, with a nod and a smile.

Thus it was settled, a shake of the head conveying Gustave's judgment. And
soon after, Mme. de Saint-Maclou bade us good-night. Tired with my
journey, and (to tell the truth) a little out of humor with my friend, I
was not long in seeking my bed. At the top of the stairs a group of three
girls were gossiping; one of them handed me a candle and flung open the
door of my room with a roguish smile on her broad good-tempered face.