A supper-table was laid for two，in the third of the rooms；a round room，in one of the chateau's four extinguisher-topped towers. A small lofty room，with its window wide open，and the wooden jalousie-blinds closed，so that the dark night only showed in slight horizontal lines of black，alternating with their broad lines of stone colour.
'My nephew，'said the Marquis，glancing at the supper preparation；'they said he was not arrived.'
Nor was he；but，he had been expected with Monseigneur.
'Ah！It is not probable he will arrive tonight；nevertheless，leave the table as it is. I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour.'
In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready，and sat down alone to his sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the window，and he had taken his soup，and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to his lips，when he put it down.
'What is that？'he calmly asked，looking with attention at the horizontal lines of black and stone colour.
'Monseigneur！That？'
'Outside the blinds. Open the blinds.'
It was done.
'Well？'
'Monseigneur，it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are here.'
The servant who spoke，had thrown the blinds wide，had looked out into the vacant darkness，and stood，with that blank behind him，looking round for instructions.
'Good，'said the imperturbable master.'Close them again.'
That was done too，and the Marquis went on with his supper. He was halfway through it，when he again stopped with his glass in his hand，hearing the sound of wheels.It came on briskly，and came up to the front of the chateau.
'Ask who is arrived.'
It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues behind Monseigneur，early in the afternoon.He had diminished the distance rapidly，but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on the road.He had heard of Monseigneur，at the posting-houses，as being before him.
He was to be told（said Monseigneur）that supper awaited him then and there，and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came.He had been known in England as Charles Darnay.
Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner，but they did not shake hands.
'You left Paris yesterday，sir？'he said to Monseigneur，as he took his seat at table.
'Yesterday. And you？'
'I come direct.'
'From London？'
'Yes.'
'You have been a long time coming，'said the Marquis，with a smile.
'On the contrary；I come direct.'
'Pardon me！I mean，not a long time on the journey；a long time intending the journey.'
'I have been detained by'—the nephew stopped a moment in his answer—'various business.'
'Without doubt，'said the polished uncle.
So long as a servant was present，no other words passed between them. When coffee had been served and they were alone together，the nephew，looking at the uncle and meeting the eyes of the face that was like a fine mask，opened a conversation.
'I have come back，sir，as you anticipate，pursuing the object that took me away. It carried me into great and unexpected peril；but it is a sacred object，and if it had carried me to death I hope it would have sustained me.'
'Not to death，'said the uncle；'it is not necessary to say，to death.'
'I doubt，sir，'returned the nephew，'whether，if it had carried me to the utmost brink of death，you would have cared to stop me there.'
The deepened marks in the nose，and the lengthening of the fine straight lines in the cruel face，looked ominous as to that；the uncle made a graceful gesture of protest，which was so clearly a slight form of good breeding that it was not reassuring.
'Indeed，sir，'pursued the nephew，'for anything I know，you may have expressly worked to give a more suspicious appearance to the suspicious circumstances that surrounded me.'
'No，no，no，'said the uncle，pleasantly.
'But，however that may be，'resumed the nephew，glancing at him with deep distrust，'I know that your diplomacy would stop me by any means，and would know no scruple as to means.'
'My friend，I told you so，'said the uncle，with a fine pulsation in the two marks.'Do me the favour to recall that I told you so，long ago.'
'I recall it.'
'Thank you，'said the Marquis—very sweetly in deed.
His tone lingered in the air，almost like the tone of a musical instrument.
'In effect，sir，'pursued the nephew，'I believe it to be at once your bad fortune，and my good fortune，that has kept me out of a prison in France here.'
'I do not quite understand，'returned the uncle，sipping his coffee.'Dare I ask you to explain？'
'I believe that if you were not in disgrace with the Court，and had not been overshadowed by that cloud for years past，a letter de cachet would have sent me to some fortress indefinitely.'
'It is possible，'said the uncle，with great calmness.'For the honour of the family，I could even resolve to incommode you to that extent. Pray excuse me！'
'I perceive that，happily for me，the Reception of the day before yesterday was，as usual，a cold one，'observed the nephew.
