chesse's hand and kissed it, and she
went on:

"Alathee is my godchild, one of my names is Alathee. The poor little
one, she adored her father, in all those first years. They wandered much
and only came to Paris at intervals, and each time they came, a little
poorer, a little more troubled, and then after a lapse I heard those two
were born at Nice--wretched little decadents, when my poor Hilda was a
mass of nerves and disillusion. Alathee was eleven then. It was, _par
hazard_, when she was about fourteen that she heard of her father's
crime. She was the gayest, most sweet child before that, through all
their poverty, but from that moment her character was changed. It
destroyed something in her spirit, one must believe. She set firmly to
education, decided she would be a secretary, cultivated herself, worked,
worked, worked! She worshipped her mother, and resented immensely her
father's treatment of her."

"She must always have had a wonderful character."

"For that, yes," and the Duchesse paused a moment, then went on:

"Quite a tremendous character, and as Bobby sank and poor Hilda became
more ill, and wretched, that child has risen in strength, and supported
them all. Since the war came they have almost lived upon her earnings.
The father is without conscience, and of a selfishness unspeakable! His
money all went to him for his use, and Alathee was left to supplement
the mother's wretched two or three thousand francs a year. And now that
brute has again cheated at cards, and poor Hilda came to me in her great
distress, and remembering your words, Nicholas, I called upon you. It
would have been too cruel for the poor woman to have had to suffer
again. Hilda took the money and gave it to this infamous husband, and
the affair was settled that night. Alathee knows nothing about it."

Light was dawning upon me. The admirable Bobby has evidently played upon
the feelings of both wife and daughter!

"Duchesse, why did you not wish me to know the real name, and would not
help me at all about 'Miss Sharp,'--won't you now tell me your reason?"

The Duchesse shaded her eyes from the fire with a hand-screen, and it
came between us, and I could not see her face, but her voice changed.

"I was greatly surprised to find the girl in your flat one day. I had
not understood with whom she was working. I was not pleased about it,
frankly, Nicholas, because one cannot help knowing of your existence and
your friends, and I feared y