I determined then and there to give Theodore a piece of my mind and to insist upon an introduction to his aunt.  After which I begged the beautiful creature to proceed.

“My father, Monsieur,” she continued, “died three months ago, in England, whither he had emigrated when I was a mere child, leaving my poor mother to struggle along for a livelihood as best she could.  My mother died last year, Monsieur, and I have hard a hard life; and now it seems that my father made a fortune in England and left it all to me.”

I was greatly interested in her story.

“The first intimation I had of it, Monsieur, was three months ago, when I had a letter from an English lawyer in London telling me that my father, Jean Paul Bachelier—­that was his name, Monsieur—­had died out there and made a will leaving all his money, about one hundred thousand francs, to me.”

“Yes, yes!” I murmured, for my throat felt parched and my eyes dim.

Hundred thousand francs!  Ye gods!

“It seems,” she proceeded demurely, “that my father put it in his will that the English lawyers were to pay me the interest on the money until I married or reached the age of twenty-one.  Then the whole of the money was to be handed over to me.”

I had to steady myself against the table or I would have fallen over backwards!  This godlike creature, to whom the sum of one hundred thousand francs was to be paid over when she married, had come to me for help and advice!  The thought sent my brain reeling!  I am so imaginative!

“Proceed, Mademoiselle, I pray you,” I contrived to say with dignified calm.

“Well, Monsieur, as I don’t know a word of English, I took the letter to Mr. Farewell, who is the English traveller for Madame Cecile, the milliner for whom I worked.  He is a kind, affable gentleman and was most helpful to me.  He was, as a matter of fact, just going over to England the very next day.  He offered to go and see the English lawyers for me, and to bring me back all particulars of my dear father’s death and of my unexpected fortune.”

“And,” said I, for she had paused a moment, “did Mr. Farewell go to England on your behalf?”

“Yes, Monsieur.  He went and returned about a fortnight later.  He had seen the English lawyers, who confirmed all the good news which was contained in their letter.  They took, it seems, a great fancy to Mr. Farewell, and told him that since I was obviously too young to live alone and needed a guardian to look after my interests, they would appoint him my guardian, and suggested that I should make my home with him until I was married or had attained the age of twenty-one.  Mr. Farewell told me that though this arrangement might be somewhat inconvenient in his bachelor establishment, he had been unable to resist the entreaties of the English lawyers, who felt that no one was more fitted for such onerous duties than himself, seeing that he was English and so obviously my friend.”