Mynheer Grootz’s recommendation was clearly a passport to her favour. She leant back in her high chair, and in her clear, well-modulated voice told Harry what he was, it must be confessed, curious to hear. It was three years since her husband, the Comte de Vaudrey, died. He was a student, not a man of affairs; and his fortune suffered through his lack of business-like qualities. The estate, a small one, purchased by his father when as a Huguenot he fled from France at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, was now much encumbered. Monsieur de Vaudrey had bought the best perspective glasses and other expensive scientific instruments, had spent large sums on rare books and specimens, and had so embarrassed himself that he had to apply to the Amsterdam bankers, who advanced him money on a mortgage of the estate. Not long afterwards he died. "It is only a year ago," continued Madame de Vaudrey, "that we learnt that we were to have a neighbour. The estate adjoining our own had been in the market for many years, and we heard that it had at last been purchased by a Monsieur de Polignac, a Frenchman, and a Huguenot like ourselves. We were rejoiced at the news; a neighbour of our own race and faith would be so charming, we thought. And so indeed he was, at first. I thought his visits to his estate too few; he was so often at the Hague; when he came to see us he was so debonair, so gracious, that I liked him well. With my daughter, quite the contrary. It was prejudice, I told her; but from the first she looked on him coldly. Then all at once he became a more frequent visitor, and I saw—yes, a mother’s eyes are keen—that he had pretensions to my daughter’s hand. I did not oppose him; he was rich, noble, a Huguenot; but Adèle—certes, Monsieur Rochestair, no maiden could ever have given less encouragement. The first time he was refused he smiled—he does not look well when he smiles, think you?—and said that he would still hope. But though I thought the match a good one, I would not persuade my daughter: she is all I have, Monsieur, and so young. He went away; then a few days ago I am astonished to see him reappear in company with Captain Aglionby, who is visiting him. Now first I begin really to dislike Monsieur de Polignac." "Did you know Captain Aglionby before, then?" asked Harry in surprise.