CHAPTER III.
The Unexpected that Always Happened.
Everything depends on the point of view and is rich in varying aspects.

A picture is sublime from one corner of the room, a daub from another; a woman's full face may be perfect, her profile a disappointment; above all, what you admire in yourself becomes highly distasteful in your neighbor.
The moral is, I suppose, Tolerance; or if not that, something else which has escaped me.
When the duchess said that "it"-- by which she meant the whole position of affairs--was "fun," I laughed; on the other hand, Gustave de Berensac, after one astonished stare, walked to the hall door.
"Where is my carriage ?" we heard him ask.
"It has started on the way back three, minutes ago, sir." "Fetch it back." "Sir! The driver will gallop down the hill; he could not be overtaken." "How fortunate!" said I.
"I do not see," observed Mme.

de Saint-Maclou, "that it makes all that difference." She seemed hurt at the serious way in which Gustave took her joke.
"If I had told the truth, you wouldn't have come," she said in justification.
"Not another word is necessary," said I, with a bow.
"Then let us sup," said the duchess, and she took the armchair at the head of the table.
We began to eat and drink, serving ourselves.

Presently Gustave entered, stood regarding us for a moment, and then flung himself into the third chair and poured out a glass of wine.

The duchess took no notice of him.
"Mlle, de Berensac was called away ?" I suggested.
"She was called away," answered the duchess.
"Suddenly ?" "No," said the duchess, her eyes again full of complicated expressions.