Lord Lydstone undutifully. "What can mother want
with me?"

"You had better go to her," said the colonel, who was a little afraid
of his cousin, the female head of the house. "I will take your place
here--that is to say, if mademoiselle will permit me."

"Madame," corrected Lord Lydstone, who had been already put right
himself. "Let me introduce you. Madame Cyprienne--my cousin, Colonel
Wilders, of the Royal Rangers. I hope we shall hear you sing again
to-night, unless you are too tired."

"I shall do whatever _miladi_ wishes," said Madame Cyprienne, in a
deep but musical voice, with a slight foreign accent. "It is for her
to command, me to obey. She has been very kind, you know," she went on
to Colonel Wilders, who had taken Lydstone's seat by her side. "But
for her I should have starved."

"Dear me! how sad," said the colonel. "Was it so bad as that? How did
it happen. Was M. Cyprienne unlucky?"

She did not answer; and the colonel, wondering, looked up, to find her
fine eyes filled with tears.

"How stupid of me! What an idiot I am! Of course, your husband is--"

She pointed to her black dress, edged with crape, but said nothing.

"Yes, yes! I quite understand. Pray forgive me," stammered the
colonel, and there followed an awkward pause.

"Mine is a sad story," she said at length, in a sorrowful tone. "I was
left suddenly alone, unprotected, without resources, in this strange
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 _ecru_.

"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