the door carefully behind her. I caught a glimpse of the little nun's
face, and thought there was a look of disappointment on it. The old lady
and I began to walk along the path that led to the burying-ground.

"I do not know," said I, "whether you have heard of me. My name is Aycon."

"I thought so. Mr. Aycon, I must tell you that you are very much to blame.
You have led this innocent, though thoughtless, child into most deplorable
conduct."

("Well done, little duchess!" said I to myself; but of course I was not
going to betray her.)

"I deeply regret my thoughtlessness," said I earnestly. "I would, however,
observe that the present position of the duchess is not due to my--shall
we say misconduct?--but to that of her husband. I did not invite--"

"Don't mention her name!" interrupted the Mother Superior in horror.

We had reached the arched gateway; and there appeared standing within it a
figure most charmingly inappropriate to a graveyard--the duchess herself,
looking as fresh as a daisy, and as happy as a child with a new toy. She
ran to me, holding out both hands and crying:

"Ah, my dear, dear Mr. Aycon, you are the most delightful man alive! You
come at the very moment I want you."

"Be sober, my child, be sober!" murmured the old lady.

"But I want to hear," expostulated the duchess. "Do you know anything, Mr.