to be with her, and was only to be pacified by a
fable of Jeanette's devising, who always said that "the King" had
summoned Monsieur de Vandaleur. Jeanette was well aware that, the
childless old Duke being dead, her master had succeeded to the title,
and she often spoke of him as Monsieur le Duc to his wife, which seems
to have pleased the poor lady. When he was absent, Jeanette's ready
excuse, "_Eh, Madame! Pour Monsieur le Duc--le Roi l'a fait appeller_,"
was enough, and she waited patiently for his return.

Ever-changing as her whims and fancies were, the poor gentleman
sacrificed everything to gratify them. His watch, his rings, his
buckles, the lace from his shirt, and all the few trifles secured in
their hasty flight, were sold one by one. His face was familiar to the
keepers of certain stalls near to where Covent Garden Market now stands.
He bought flowers for Madame when he could not afford himself food. He
sold his waistcoat, and buttoned his coat across him--and looked thinner
than ever.

Then the day came when Madame wished, and he could not gratify her
wish. Everything was gone. He said, "This will kill me, Jeanette;" and
Jeanette believed him.

Nurse Brown (according to her own account) assured Jeanette that it
would not. "Folk doesn't die of such things, says I."

But, in spite of common-sense and experience, Monsieur de Vandaleur did
die of grief, or something very like it, within twenty-four hours of the
death of his wife, and the birth of their only son.

For some years the faithful Jeanette supported this child by her own
industry. She was an exquisite laundress, and she throve where the Duke
and Duchess would have starved. As the boy grew up she kept him as far
as possible from common companions, treated him with as much deference
as if he had succeeded to the family honours, and filled his head with
traditions of the deserts and dignity of the de Vandaleurs.

At last a cousin of Monsieur de Vandaleur found them out. He also was an
exile, but he had prospered better, had got a small civil appointment,
and had married a Scotch lady. It was after he had come to the help of
his young kinsman, I think, that an old French lady took a fancy to the
boy, and sent him to school in France at her own expense. He was just
nineteen when she died, and left him what little money she possessed.
He then returned to England, and paid his respects to his cousin and the
Scotch Mrs. Vandaleur.

She congratulated