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 "The poor dear Empress," she said, "how I pity her!"

"Ah, you should have seen her in her splendour. Were you in Paris before the war?"

"You can scarcely expect my sister to remember Paris before the war, my dear Mrs. Dumaresq," interposed Miss Semaphore frigidly. "It is years ago. Prudence was a mere child."

Mrs. Dumaresq smiled slightly, and said, "Ah!" In diplomatic circles no one openly expresses disbelief in a statement.

"The dear Empress was such a friend of mine in the old days when we lived there. One day, I remember so well, we had been away for nearly a year. The Empress was standing at a window of the Palace with an aide-de-camp beside her, Comte de la Tour—you remember Comte de la Tour, Angelo?" This to her silent husband, who nodded assent. "The Empress suddenly said to the Comte, 'Mon cher, who is that charmingly-dressed lady who has just driven past?' The Comte, dear man, answered, 'Oh, your Majesty, do you not know? that is Madame Dumaresq!' The same evening we met at a ball at the Spanish Ambassador's, and the