t black--as if one were always going
to a funeral."

"It is all a matter of taste, Mademoiselle," replied Dudu, so amiably
that Hugh wondered more and more at his politeness to Jeanne, who was
certainly not very civil to him. "For my part, I confess I have always
had a great fancy for white--the force of contrast, I suppose--and this
brings me back to telling you how very nice your great-grandmother and
her sister looked that day walking up and down the terrace path in their
white dresses."

"My great-grandmother!" exclaimed Jeanne. "Why, you said 'our young
ladies.'"

"So they were our young ladies," replied Dudu. "Even though one was your
great-grandmother, Mademoiselle, and not yours only but Monsieur Cheri's
too, and the other, of course, your great-grand-aunt. There have been
many 'our young ladies' that I can remember in this house, which has so
long been the home of one family, and my home always. In three or four
hundred years one sees a good deal. Ah yes! Well, as I was saying, I was
standing on the edge of the parapet looking over at the young ladies,
and admiring them and the sunshine and the flowers in the garden all at
once, when I suddenly heard a window open. It was not one of the windows
of our house. I have very quick ears, and I knew that in an instant, so
I looked about to see what window it was. In those days there were not
quite so many houses behind our garden as there are now. Your
great-great-grandfather sold some of the land about that time, and then
houses were built, but just then there were only two or three that
overlooked one side of the garden. One of them was a large high house,
which was let in flats to various families, often visitors to the town,
or strangers who had come for a short time for the education of their
children, or some other reason. It was not long before I discovered
that the window I had heard open was in this house. It was one on the
second story, looking on to a little balcony which at one end was not
very high above the terrace walk. I watched to see who had opened the
window, and in a few moments I saw peeping out half timidly the pretty
fair face of a little girl. Quite a little girl she was, not much older
than you, Mademoiselle Jeanne, but not like you, for she had light hair
and soft blue eyes, and a fair face like Monsieur Cheri. She was a
little English girl. She peeped out, and then, seeing that no one was
observing her, she came quietly on to the balcony,