"Well, all that came to an end. Madame Pasquier went away and never came back, and so did Gogo. Monsieur and Madame Pasquier were dead, and dear mamma died in a week from the cholera. Poor heartbroken Mimsey was taken away to St. Petersburg, Warsaw, Leipsic, Venice, all over Europe, by her father, as heart-broken as herself. "It was her wish and her father's that she should become a pianist by profession, and she studied hard for many years in almost every capital, and under almost every master in Europe, and she gave promise of success. "And so, wandering from one place to another, she became a young woman--a greatly petted and spoiled and made-much-of young woman, Mr. Ibbetson, although she says it who shouldn't; and had many suitors of all kinds and countries. "But the heroic and angelic Gogo, with his lovely straight nose, and his hair _aux enfants d'Edouard_, and his dear little white silk chimney-pot hat and Eton jacket, was always enshrined in her memory, in her inmost heart, as the incarnation of all that was beautiful and brave and good. But alas! what had become of this Gogo in the mean time? Ah, he was never even heard of--he was dead! "Well, this long-legged, tender-hearted, grown-up young Mimsey of nineteen was attracted by a very witty and accomplished English attache at Vienna--a Mr. Harcourt, who seemed deeply in love with her, and wished her to be his wife. "He was not rich, but Dr. Seraskier liked and trusted him so much that he dispossessed himself of almost everything he had to enable this young couple to marry--and they did. And truth compels me to admit that for a year they were very happy and contented with fate and each other. "Then a great misfortune befell them both. In a most unexpected manner, through four or five consecutive deaths in Mr. Harcourt's family, he became, first, Lord Harcourt, and then the Duke of Towers. And since then, Mr. Ibbetson, I have not had an hour's peace or happiness. "In the first place a son was born to me--a cripple, poor dear! and deformed from his birth; and as he grew older it soon became evident that he was also born without a mind. "Then my unfortunate husband changed completely; he drank and gambled and worse, till we came to live together as strangers, and only spoke to each other in public and before the world...." "Ah," I said, "you were still a great lady--an English duchess!" I could not endure the thought of that happy twelvemonth with that bestial duke! I, sober, chaste, and clean--of all but blood, alas!--and a condemned convict!