The facts, as regarded Mrs. Thompson, were as follows:—She was the widow of a gentleman who had served for many years in the civil service of the East Indies, and who, on dying, had left her a comfortable income of—it matters not how many pounds, but constituting quite a sufficiency to enable her to live at her ease and educate her daughters.

Her children had been sent home to England before her husband’s death, and after that event she had followed them; but there, though she was possessed of moderate wealth, she had no friends and few acquaintances, and after a little while she had found life to be rather dull.  Her customs were not those of England, nor were her propensities English; therefore she had gone abroad, and having received some recommendation of this school at Le Puy, had made her way thither.  As it appeared to her that she really enjoyed more consideration at Le Puy than had been accorded to her either at Torquay or Leamington, there she remained from day to day.  The total payment required at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs was but six francs daily for herself and three and a half for her little girl; and where else could she live with a better junction of economy and comfort?  And then the gentleman who always sat next to her was so exceedingly civil!

The gentleman’s name was M. Lacordaire.  So much she knew, and had learned to call him by his name very frequently.  Mimmy, too, was quite intimate with M. Lacordaire; but nothing more than his name was known of him.  But M. Lacordaire carried a general letter of recommendation in his face, manner, gait, dress, and tone of voice.  In all these respects there was nothing left to be desired; and, in addition to this, he was decorated, and wore the little red ribbon of the Legion of Honour, ingeniously twisted into the shape of a small flower.

M. Lacordaire might be senior in age to Mrs. Thompson by about ten years, nor had he about him any of the airs or graces of a would-be young man.  His hair, which he wore very short, was grizzled, as was also the small pretence of a whisker which came down about as far as the middle of his ear; but the tuft on his chin was still brown, without a gray hair.  His eyes were bright and tender, his voice was low and soft, his hands were very white, his clothes were always new and well fitting, and a better-brushed hat could not be seen out of Paris, nor perhaps in it.

Now, during the weeks which Mrs. Thompson had passed at La Puy, the acquaintance which she had formed with M. Lacordaire had progressed beyond the prolonged meals in the salle à manger.  He had occasionally sat beside her evening table as she took her English cup of tea in her own room, her bed being duly screened off in its distant niche by becoming curtains; and then he had occasionally walked beside her, as he civilly escorted her to the lions of the place; and he had once accompanied her, sitting on the back seat of a French voiture, when she had gone forth to see something of the surrounding country.

On all such occasions she had been accompanied by one of her daughters, and the world of Le Puy had had nothing material to say against her.  But still the world of Le Puy had whispered a little, suggesting that M. Lacordaire knew very well what he was about.  But might not Mrs. Thompson also know as well what she was about?  At any rate, everything had gone on very pleasantly since the acquaintance had been made.  And now, so much having been explained, we will go back to the elaborate breakfast at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.

Mrs. Thompson, holding Mimmy by the hand, walked into the room some few minutes after the last bell had been rung, and took the place which was now hers by custom.  The gentlemen who constantly frequented the house all bowed to her, but M. Lacordaire rose from his seat and offered her his hand.

“And how is Mees Meemy this morning?” said he; for ’twas thus he always pronounced her name.

Miss Mimmy, answering for herself, declared that she was very well, and suggested that M. Lacordaire should give her a fig from off a dish that was placed immediately before him on the table.  This M. Lacordaire did, presenting it very elegantly between his two fingers, and making a little bow to the little lady as he did so.

“Fie, Mimmy!” said her mother; “why do you ask for the things before the waiter brings them round?”

“But, mamma,” said Mimmy, speaking English, “M. Lacordaire always gives me a fig every morning.”

“M. Lacordaire always spoils you, I think,” answered Mrs. Thompson, in French.  And then they went thoroughly to work at their breakfast.  During the whole meal M. Lacordaire attended assiduously to his neighbour; and did so without any evil result, except that one Frenchman with a black moustache, at the head of the table, trod on the toe of another Frenchman with another black moustache—winking as he made the sign—just as M. Lacordaire, having selected a bunch of grapes, put it on Mrs. Thompson’s plate with infinite grace.  But who among us all is free from such impertinences as these?

“But madame really must see the château of Prince Polignac before she leaves Le Puy,” said M. Lacordaire.

“The château of who?” asked Mimmy, to whose young ears the French words were already becoming familiar.

“Prince Polignac, my dear.  Well, I really don’t know, M. Lacordaire;—I have seen a great deal of the place already, and I shall be going now very soon; probably in a day or two,” said Mrs. Thompson.

“But madame must positively see the château,” said M. Lacordaire, very impressively; and then after a pause he added, “If madame will have the complaisance to commission me to procure a carriage for this afternoon, and will allow me the honour to be her guide, I shall consider myself one of the most fortunate of men.”

“Oh, yes, mamma, do go,” said Mimmy, clapping her hands.  “And it is Thursday, and Lilian can go with us.”

“Be quiet, Mimmy, do.  Thank you, no, M. Lacordaire.  I could not go to-day; but I am extremely obliged by your politeness.”

M. Lacordaire still pressed the matter, and Mrs. Thompson still declined till it was time to rise from the table.  She then declared that she did not think it possible that she should visit the château before she left Le Puy; but that she would give him an answer at dinner.

The most tedious time in the day to Mrs. Thompson were the two hours after breakfast.  At one o’clock she daily went to the school, taking Mimmy, who for an hour or two shared her sister’s lessons.  This and her little excursions about the place, and her shopping, managed to make away with her afternoon.  Then in the evening, she generally saw something of M. Lacordaire.  But those two hours after breakfast were hard of killing.

On this occasion, when she gained her own room, she as usual placed Mimmy on the sofa with a needle.  Her custom then was to take up a novel; but on this morning she sat herself down in her arm-chair, and resting her head upon her hand and elbow, began to turn over certain circumstances in her mind.

“Mamma,” said Mimmy, “why won’t you go with M. Lacordaire to that place belonging to the prince?  Prince—Polly something, wasn’t it?”

“Mind your work, my dear,” said Mrs. Thompson.

“But I do so wish you’d go, mamma.  What was the prince’s name?”

“Polignac.”

“Mamma, ain’t princes very great people?”

“Yes, my dear; sometimes.”

“Is Prince Polly-nac like our Prince Alfred?”

“No, my dear; not at all.  At least, I suppose not.”

“Is his mother a queen?”

“No, my dear.”

“Then his father must be a king?”

“No, my dear.  It is quite a different thing here.  Here in France they have a great many princes.”

“Well, at any rate I should like to see a prince’s château; so I do hope you’ll go.”  And then there was a pause.  “Mamma, could it