"_Ma chere_ young lady, I will not," said the French woman. "Pardon, I was foolish. I do not forrgette. Miladi will let me put on the tick veil." Full of respectful solicitude now, Justine helped her young mistress to dress, when she again began to tremble. "Justine, I dare not," she faltered. "Would miladi prefer to be accompany by her own maid Preen?" "No, no, Justine," cried Maude, hastily, "I dare not trust her." "_Ma foi, non_! miladi is right. She will trust Justine, her ladyship's confidential maid, who keep her ladyship's secret, and will be so silent and secret as never was for _cette chere_ young mistress in her big trouble." "I will trust you, Justine; I am obliged," sobbed Maude. "And not trust, ze foolish girl goose who fall in love wis ze mis-er-rable organ grind. My faith, it is so foolish, though ze man is beau." "Yes, very handsome," sighed Maude, thoughtfully. "Ah, Justine, I cannot be angry with the poor girl for being in love." "_Ma foi, non_, miladi, it is our nature to have our weakness there. I too, I confess to it all. Yais." "You, Justine! you?" cried Maude, staring hard at the dark shining eyes of the Frenchwoman, who looked too hard to have had a soft sensation in her life. "_Oui_, miladi. It is my secret, and I hide him. But I too love with a grand ardour that cannot be what you call him in your tongue." "Appeased, Justine," sighed Maude. "_Non, non_, miladi. Ah, yais, I have him, squench, which can nevaire be squench." "Poor Justine!" sighed Maude; and then recovering herself, and shrinking from being so intimate with her mother's maid. "But no, no, I could not go." "Why not, miladi?" said the wily Frenchwoman. "Monsieur Hector is a gentleman that an empress might trust." "Yes, yes; but--oh, this is dreadful." "Her ladyship does not think of Sir Wilters' great sorrow if he find my young lady has lose all her hair," said Justine, smiling as she watched the effect of her words; and a few minutes after she was attending Maude on her way to Upper Gimp Street. The waxen lady had her head turned in the opposite direction, but the waxen gentleman watched her coming, and looked a combination of the mysterious and admiring as, closely veiled, Maude walked swiftly by Justine's side, trembling the while, and feeling certain that every one she passed knew her errand and was watching her. Dreading the visit as she did, it was with something like relief that she stood within the curtained door, face to face with bland, chivalrous Monsieur Hector, who rose, laid down his three days' old copy of the _Petit Journal_, and bowed profoundly. "Miladi will excuse that I do not attend her myself?" he said, respectfully. "Monsieur my assistant is at miladi's service." As Maude bowed, he opened the inner door that led to his private consulting room, and returned to the front, to indulge for the next two hours in pleasant converse with Justine. At last Justine rose to go.