To her I put a question or two as to the gentry of the neighborhood.

She rattled me off a few distinguished names, and ended: "The duke of Saint-Maclou has also a small _chteau_." "Is he there now ?" I asked.
"The duchess only, sir," she answered.

"Ah, they tell wonderful stories of her!" "Do they?
Pray, of what kind ?" "Oh, not to her harm, sir; or, at least, not exactly, though to simple country-folk--" The national shrug was an appropriate ending.
"And the duke ?" "He is a good man," she answered earnestly, "and a very clever man.

He is very highly thought of at Paris, sir." I had hoped, secretly, to hear that he was a villain; but he was a good man.

It was a scurvy trick to play on a good man.