"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 rapidly increasing the interest he took in
her.
"I am the Countess de Saint Clair," replied Madame Cyprienne, proudly;
"but I do not assume the title now. I do not choose it to be known
that I live by singing, and by selling the remnants of our family
lace."
"I hope Lady Essendine paid you a decent price," said the colonel,
pleasantly.
Madame Cyprienne shook her head, with a little laugh--
"She has been very kind--exceedingly kind--but she knows how to drive
a bargain: all women do."
"What a shame! And have you sold it all? You had better entrust me
with the disposal of the rest."
"Oh! Colonel Wilders, I could not think of giving you so much
trouble."
"But I will; I should like to.
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