country--to fight my own battle, to earn a crust of bread by my own
exertions, or starve."

"Dear, dear!" said the colonel, his sympathies fully aroused.

"I should have starved, but for Lady Essendine. She heard of me. I was
trying to dispose of some lace--some very old Spanish point. You are a
judge of lace, monsieur?"

"Of course, of course!" said the colonel, although, as a matter of
fact, he did not know Spanish point from common _écru_.

"This was some lace that had been in our family for generations. You
must understand we were not always as you see me--poor; we belong to
the old nobility. My husband was highly born, but when he died I
dropped the title and became Madame Cyprienne. It was better, don't
you think?"

"Perhaps so; I am not sure," replied the colonel, hardly knowing what
to say.

"It was. The idea of a countess a pauper, begging her bread!"

"What was your title, may I ask?" inquired the colonel, eagerly. These
tender confidences, accompanied by an occasional encouraging glance
from her bright eyes, were rapidly increasing the interest he took in
her.

"I am the Countess de Saint Clair," replied Madame Cyprienne, proudly;
"but I do not assume the title now. I do not choose it to be known