"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 écru.
"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!"