Gustave walked up to the table.

The duchess flung herself into an armchair.

She had taken her handkerchief out of her pocket, and she held it in front of her lips and seemed to be biting it.

Her eyebrows were raised, and her face displayed a comical mixture of amusement and apprehension.

A glance of her eyes at me invited me to share the perilous jest, in which Gustave's demeanor appeared to bear the chief part.
Gustave stood by the table, regarding it with a puzzled air.
"One--two--three!" he exclaimed aloud, counting the covers laid.
The duchess said nothing, but her eyebrows mounted a little higher, till they almost reached her clustering hair.
"One--two--three ?" repeated Gustave, in unmistakable questioning.