“Nor I either,” returned the attached domestic.  “I shall go back and act as if you were at supper.  At three in the morning I will be in the wine-shop on the left-hand side of the road.  When you return, give a gentle tap on the window-pane with the handle of your whip.”  Norbert sprang into the saddle, and sped away through the darkness like a phantom of the night.  Jean had made an excellent choice in the horse he had brought for his master’s use, and the animal made its way rapidly through the mud and rain; but Norbert by this time was half mad with excitement, and spurred him madly on.  As he neared home a new idea crossed his brain.  Suppose it was a practical joke on the part of some of the members of the club?  In that case, they would doubtless be watching for his arrival, and, after talking to him on indifferent subjects, would, when he betrayed any symptoms of impatience, overwhelm him with ridicule.  The fear of this made him cautious.  What should he do with the horse he was riding?  The wine-shops were open, and perhaps he might pick up some man there who would take charge of it for him.  As he was debating this point, his eyes fell upon a soldier, probably on his way to barracks.

“My man,” asked the Duke, “would you like to earn twenty francs?”

“I should think so, if it is nothing contrary to the rules and regulations of the army.”

“It is only to take my horse and walk him up and down while I pay a visit close by.”

“I can stay out of the barracks a couple of hours longer, but no more,” returned the soldier.

Norbert told the soldier where he was to wait for him, and then went on rapidly to his own house, and reached the side street along which ran the garden belonging to his magnificent residence.  On the opposite side of the street the houses all had porticoes, and Norbert took up his position in one of these, and peered out carefully.  He had studied the whole street, which was not a long one, from beginning to end, and was convinced that he was the only person in it.  He made up his mind that he would wait until midnight; and if by that time no one appeared, he would feel confident that the Duchess was innocent, and return without any one but Jean having known of his expedition.  From his position he could see that three windows on the second floor of his house were lighted up, and those windows were in his wife’s sleeping apartment.  “She is the last woman in the world to permit a lover to visit her,” thought he.  “No, no; the whole thing is a hoax.”  He began to think of the way in which he had treated his wife.  Had he nothing to reproach himself with?  Ten days after their marriage he had deserted her entirely; and if during the last few weeks he had paid her any attention, it was because he was acting in obedience to the whims of another woman.  Suppose a lover was with her now, what right had he to interfere?  The law gave him leave, but what did his conscience say?  He