"Knew him? I should think so. Who could be in the great world and not
know _le beau_ Victor? No; after he vanished I never heard more of him;
doubtless long since dead. A good-hearted fellow in spite of all his
sins."

"My dear Monsieur de Breze, did you know his half-sister?" asked Graham,
--"a Madame Duval?"

"No. I never heard he had a half-sister. Halt there; I recollect that I
met Victor once, in the garden at Versailles, walking arm-in-arm with the
most beautiful girl I ever saw; and when I complimented him afterwards at
the Jockey Club on his new conquest, he replied very gravely that the
young lady was his niece. 'Niece!' said I; 'why, there can't be more
than five or six years between you.' 'About that, I suppose,' said he;
'my half-sister, her mother, was more than twenty years older than I at
the time of my birth.' I doubted the truth of his story at the time; but
since you say he really had a sister, my doubt wronged him."

"Have you never seen that same young lady since?"

"Never."

"How many years ago was this?"

"Let me see, about twenty or twenty-one years ago. How time flies!"

Graham still continued to question, but could learn no further
particulars. He turned to quit the gardens just as the band was striking
up for a fresh dance, a wild German waltz air; and mingled with that
German music his ear caught the sprightly sounds of the French laugh, one