It may be said that to give a photograph or to take a
photograph without the utterance of some words which would be felt by
a bystander to be absurd, is almost an impossibility. At this moment
there was no bystander, and therefore the Duke and the lady had no
need for caution. Words were spoken that were very absurd. Madame
Goesler protested that the Duke's photograph was more to her than the
photographs of all the world beside; and the Duke declared that he
would carry the lady's picture next to his heart,--I am afraid he
said for ever and ever. Then he took her hand and pressed it, and was
conscious that for a man over seventy years of age he did that kind
of thing very well.
"You will come and dine with me, Duke?" she said, when he began to
talk of going.
"I never dine out."
"That is just the reason you should dine with me. You shall meet
nobody you do not wish to meet."
"I would so much rather see you in this way,--I would indeed. I do
dine out occasionally, but it is at big formal parties, which I
cannot escape without giving offence."
"And you cannot escape my little not formal party,--without giving
offence." She looked into his face as she spoke, and he knew that she
meant it. And he looked into hers, and thought that her eyes were
brighter than any he was in the habit of seeing in these latter days.
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