You did not see me, I know. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. And now her father said she must not go. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. Aware of his father's inflexibility of purpose, he set his wits to work to defeat the design.
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