“With pleasure,” the other cried heartily, his relief evident. “Certainly. With pleasure.” And, nodding good night, they parted.

While Rochefoucauld, with Nançay at his side and his gentlemen attending him, passed along the echoing and now empty gallery, the younger man bounded down the stairs to the great hall of the Caryatides, his face radiant. He for one was not sleepy.