equented inns at Berne, in Switzerland. Attached to
this inn was a parlour, in which some of the most jovial of the local
notables were accustomed to pass their evenings, gossiping over the
occurrences of the day, and whiling away an hour or so with a quiet
game at dominoes. The stranger was a pleasant-looking man, of from
forty to forty-five years of age, and preferred the good company of
the familiar parlour to the dulness of his private sitting-room, or
the staid society of the public _salon_. He said his name was
Nauendorff, and by his affability soon made himself such a general
favourite that one of the leading _habitues_ of the place invited him
to his house and introduced him to his family. In private life he
shone even more brilliantly than in the mixed company of the hotel.
There was a certain dignity about his appearance which seemed to
proclaim him a greater personage than he at first claimed to be, and
his host was not greatly astonished when, after the lapse of a
fortnight, he confided to him the secret that Nauendorff was merely an
assumed name, and that he was in reality the Duke of Normandy, the
disinherited heir to the French throne. The whole family rose in a
flutter of excitement at the presence of this distinguished guest in
their midst. They had no doubt of the truth of his story, and one
daughter of the house urged him to take prompt and decisive measures
to recover his crown. As far as her feeble help could go it was freely
at his service. The mouse has e'er now helped the lion; and this
enthusiastic girl was not without hope that she might render some
assistance in restoring to France her legitimate king. She became
amanuensis and secretary to Nauendorff, compiled a statement from his
words and documents, laid it before the lawyers, and they pronounced
favourably, and advised the claimant to proceed without delay to Paris
and prosecute his cause vigorously. He went.

On a May morning in 1833, the watchman of the great Parisian cemetery
at Pere la Chaise discovered a dust-stained traveller sleeping among
the tombs, and shaking him up demanded his name, and his reason for
choosing such a strange resting-place. His name he said was Nauendorff;
but as he only spoke German the curiosity of the guardian of the place
was not further satisfied. In a short time the same individual met a
gentleman who could speak German, who took pity upon his apparent
weakness and ignorance of the gay capital, and who, wh