preferred the good company of the familiar parlour to the dulness of his private sitting-room, or the staid society of the public salon.  He said his name was Nauendorff, and by his affability soon made himself such a general favourite that one of the leading habitues of the place invited him to his house and introduced him to his family.  In private life he shone even more brilliantly than in the mixed company of the hotel.  There was a certain dignity about his appearance which seemed to proclaim him a greater personage than he at first claimed to be, and his host was not greatly astonished when, after the lapse of a fortnight, he confided to him the secret that Nauendorff was merely an assumed name, and that he was in reality the Duke of Normandy, the disinherited heir to the French throne.  The whole family rose in a flutter of excitement at the presence of this distinguished guest in their midst.  They had no doubt of the truth of his story, and one daughter of the house urged him to take prompt and decisive measures to recover his crown.  As far as her feeble help could go it was freely at his service.  The mouse has e’er now helped the lion; and this enthusiastic girl was not without hope that she might render some assistance in restoring to France her legitimate king.  She became amanuensis and secretary to Nauendorff, compiled a statement from his words and documents, laid it before the lawyers, and they pronounced favourably, and advised the claimant to proceed without delay to Paris and prosecute his cause vigorously.  He went.

On a May morning in 1833, the watchman of the great Parisian cemetery at Pere la Chaise discovered a dust-stained traveller sleeping among the tombs, and shaking him up demanded his name, and his reason for choosing such a strange resting-place.  His name he said was Nauendorff; but as he only spoke German the curiosity of the guardian of the place was not further satisfied.  In a short time the same individual met a gentleman who could speak German, who took pity upon his apparent weakness and ignorance of the gay capital, and who, when he heard that he had arrived on foot the night before, and was utterly destitute, advised him to apply to the old Countess de Richemont, as one who was proverbially kind to foreigners, and had formerly been one of the attendants on the dauphin who died in the Temple.  The stranger was profuse in his thanks, muttered that the dauphin was not dead yet, and set out for the Rue Richer, where the countess lived.

He obtained easy access to the presence of the lady, and announced himself as the Duke of Normandy.  The countess acted in orthodox fashion, and straightway fainted, but not before she had hurriedly exclaimed that he was the very picture of his mother Marie Antoinette.  The first joyful recognition over, and all parties being sufficiently calm to be practical, the countess produced the numerous relics which she possessed of the happy time when Louis XVI. reigned in Versailles.