After this Aristide learned much of her simple history, which she, at first, had been too shy to reveal. The child of Finnish sea-folk who had drifted to Brest and died there, she had been adopted by an old Breton sea-dog and his wife. On their death she had entered, as maid, the service of an English lady residing in the town, who afterwards had taken her to England. After a while reverses of fortune had compelled the lady to dismiss her, and she had taken the situation in the boarding-house, where she had ruined her health and met the opulent and conquering Batterby. She had not much chance, poor child, of acquiring a profound knowledge of the history of the First Empire; but her manners were refined and her ways gentle and her voice was soft; and Aristide, citizen of the world, for whom caste distinctions existed not, thought her the most exquisite flower grown in earth's garden. He told her so, much to her blushing satisfaction. One night, about three weeks after the Batterbys' arrival in Paris, Batterby sent his wife to bed and invited Aristide to accompany him for half an hour to a neighbouring café. He looked grave and troubled. "I've been upset by a telegram," said he, when drinks had been ordered. "I'm called away to New York on business. I must catch the boat from Cherbourg to-morrow evening. Now, I can't take Fleurette with me. Women and business don't mix. She has jolly well got to stay here. I sha'n't be away more than a month. I'll leave her plenty of money to go on with. But what's worrying me is--how is she going to stick it? So look here, old man, you're my pal, aren't you?" He stretched out his hand. Aristide grasped it impulsively. "Why, of course, _mon vieux!_" "If I felt that I could leave her in your charge, all on the square, as a real straight pal--I should go away happy." "She shall be my sister," cried Aristide, "and I shall give her all the devotion of a brother.... I swear it--_tiens_--what can I swear it on?" He flung out his arms and looked round the café as if in search of an object. "I swear it on the head of my mother. Have no fear. I, Aristide Pujol, have never betrayed the sacred obligations of friendship. I accept her as a consecrated trust." "You only need to have said 'Right-o,' and I would have believed you," said Batterby. "I haven't told her yet. There'll be blubbering all night. Let us have another drink." When Aristide arrived at the Hôtel du Soleil et de l'Ecosse at nine o'clock the next morning he found that Batterby had left Paris by an early train. Fleurette he did not meet until he brought back the sight-seers to the fold in the evening. She had wept much during the day; but she smiled bravely on Aristide. A woman could not stand in the way of her husband's business. "By the way, what is Reginald's business?" Aristide asked. She did not know. Reginald never spoke to her of such things; perhaps she was too ignorant to understand.