The duke received her, when she came in obedience to his summons, in his own particular and favoured room, to which she was conducted by a private staircase.

It was a most dainty and luxurious apartment, fitted up with exquisite taste, and hung round with portraits of beautiful women--admirably painted by Simon Vouet, a celebrated master of that day--representing different mythological characters, and set in richly carved oval frames.

These were all likenesses of the young duke's various mistresses, each one displaying her own peculiar charms to the greatest possible advantage, and having consented to sit for her portrait--in a costume and character chosen by the duke--as a special favour, without the most remote idea that it was to form part of a gallery.
When the duenna had entered and made her best curtsey, the duke condescendingly signed to her to be seated, and immediately began to question her eagerly about Isabelle--as to whether there were any signs yet of her yielding to his suit, and also how matters were progressing between her and the detested Captain Fracasse.

Although the crafty old woman endeavoured to put the best face upon everything, and was very diplomatic in her answers to these searching questions, the information that she had to give was excessively displeasing to the imperious young nobleman, who had much ado to control his temper sufficiently to continue the conversation.

Before he let her go he begged her to suggest some plan by which he could hope to soften the obdurate beauty--appealing to her great experience in such intrigues, and offering to give her any reward she chose to claim if she would but help him to succeed.