“If I must come—­”

“You must come.”  As she spoke her eyes sparkled more and more, and her colour went and came, and she shook her curls till they emitted through the air the same soft feeling of a perfume that her note had produced.  Then her foot peeped out from beneath the black and yellow drapery of her dress, and the Duke saw that it was perfect.  And she put out her finger and touched his arm as she spoke.  Her hand was very fair, and her fingers were bright with rich gems.  To men such as the Duke, a hand, to be quite fair, should be bright with rich gems.  “You must come,” she said,—­not imploring him now but commanding him.

“Then I will come,” he answered, and a certain Sunday was fixed.

The arranging of the guests was a little difficulty, till Madame Goesler begged the Duke to bring with him Lady Glencora Palliser, his nephew’s wife.  This at last he agreed to do.  As the wife of his nephew and heir, Lady Glencora was to the Duke all that a woman could be.  She was everything that was proper as to her own conduct, and not obtrusive as to his.  She did not bore him, and yet she was attentive.  Although in her husband’s house she was a fierce politician, in his house she was simply an attractive woman.  “Ah; she is very clever,” the Duke once said, “she adapts herself.  If she were to go from any one place to any other, she would be at home in both.”  And the movement of his Grace’s hand as he spoke seemed to indicate the widest possible sphere for travelling and the widest possible scope for adaptation.  The dinner was arranged, and went off very pleasantly.  Madame Goesler’s eyes were not quite so bright as they were during that morning visit, nor did she touch her guest’s arm in a manner so alluring.  She was very quiet, allowing her guests to do most of the talking.  But the dinner and the flowers and the wine were excellent, and the whole thing was so quiet that the Duke liked it.  “And now you must come and dine with me,” the Duke said as he took his leave.  “A command to that effect will be one which I certainly shall not disobey,” whispered Madame Goesler.

“I am afraid he is going to get fond of that woman.”  These words were spoken early on the following morning by Lady Glencora to her husband, Mr. Palliser.

“He is always getting fond of some woman, and he will to the end,” said Mr. Palliser.

“But this Madame Max Goesler is very clever.”

“So they tell me.  I have generally thought that my uncle likes talking to a fool the best.”

“Every man likes a clever woman the best,” said Lady Glencora, “if the clever woman only knows how to use her cleverness.”

“I’m sure I hope he’ll be amused,” said Mr. Palliser innocently.  “A little amusement is all that he cares for now.”

“Suppose you were told some day that he was going—­to be married?” said Lady Glencora.

“My uncle married!”

“Why not he as well as another?”