And she looked across the dead body of the duke at Marie Delhasse.

I knew not what she would say, for she must have guessed by now who the girl was that had brought her to the place.

Suddenly the question came in a tone of curiosity, without resentment, yet tinctured with a delicate scorn, as though spoken across a gulf of difference: "Did you really care for him at all ?" Marie started, but she met the duchess' eyes and answered in a low voice with a single word: "No." "Ah, well!" said the little duchess with a sigh; and, if I read aright what she expressed, it was a pitying recognition of the reason in that answer: he could not have expected anyone to love him, she seemed to say.
And if that were so, then indeed had the finger of truth guided the duke in the penning of his epitaph.
We three, who were standing round the body, seemed sunk in our own thoughts, and it was Gustave de Berensac who went to the servant and bade him bring the carriage nearer to where we were; and when it was come, they two lifted the duke in and disposed his body as well as they could.

The man mounted the box, and at a foot-pace we set out.

The duchess had not spoken again, nor had Marie Delhasse; but when I took my place by Marie the duchess suffered Gustave to join her, and in this order we passed along.