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"My dear Madame Durski!" exclaimed Douglas, when the widow had seated herself and he had placed himself opposite to her, "I cannot tell you what intense pleasure it gives me to see you again, and most of all because it leads me to believe that I can in some manner serve you.
The mining engineers revered the memory of her husband, the late Colonel Sayther, while the syndicate and promoter representatives spoke awesomely of his deals and manipulations; for he was known down in the States as a great mining man, and as even a greater one in London. Why his widow, of all women, should have come into the country, was the great interrogation.
The officer did not think it necessary to undeceive the widow, who imagined that she was to give evidence against Vanslyperken, not that she was a prisoner herself. Still the widow Vandersloosh did not like being called up at such an unseasonable hour, and thus expressed herself to Babette as she was dressing herself. "Well, we shall see the ending of this, Babette.
"'This key will not unlock the door, she said, and I joined her. "Trying the key, I found that it did not fit in fact, that it was a key shaped differently from all other door-keys in that building; and I knew that the befuddled Bunker had made a mistake. "'He gave you the right key for the street-door, the widow whimpered; 'why did he give the wrong one for this door? "'Drunk, I growled.
"Go thou to the Widow Finkelstein." "But Esther can go," said Moses. "Yes, I'm going," said Esther. "Méshe!" repeated the Bube inexorably. "Go thou to the Widow Finkelstein." Moses went. "Have you said the afternoon prayer, boys?" the old woman asked. "Yes," said Solomon. "While you were asleep." "Oh-h-h!" said Esther under her breath. And she looked reproachfully at Solomon.
Solonet remained therefore in a self-satisfied condition of hope and becoming respect. Being sent for, he arrived the next morning with the promptitude of a slave and was received by the coquettish widow in her bedroom, where she allowed him to find her in a very becoming dishabille.
"Sire," he said, "I have to speak to-day of the sorrow that has haunted me, as it has haunted your majesty, for seventeen years. Louis de Lorraine, Duke de Nevers, was my cousin by blood, my brother by affection. His memory lives here, eternal as is the grief of his widow, who has not disdained to wear my name after wearing his."
When the widow moved her hands, tongues could not remain silent, and the conversation that had probably taken place between Peter and his wife excited her curiosity not a little. She turned the conversation upon him cleverly enough, and, as if accidentally, asked the question: "Did he apologize for his departure on the anniversary of your wedding- day?" "I know the reason; he could not stay."
He comes home almost every day with a drawing or painting probably of little value; for I know he lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows his poverty. His only son, who was married in England, is just dead, and his widow left without any means, and with an old mother and a child had written to beg for a home.
"I'll allow as how I didn't expect you at all," he returned, with a grin. "Well, you were mistaken. I'm back, and back to stay," said I. My heart beat high as we turned into the side road that led to the Widow Canby's house. I strained my eyes to catch sight of the first one who might appear. It was my Uncle Enos. He was doing a bit of mending on the front fence.
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