to pay any price for it; but she is also desirous to be respected in the
world.

"I should not be surprised if anybody told me Miss Sarah was born within
ten miles of Paris; but she calls herself an American. The fact is,
she speaks English like an Englishwoman, and knows a great deal more of
America than you know of Paris. I have heard her tell the story of
her family to a large and attentive audience; but I do not say that I
believed it.

"According to her own account, M. Brandon, her father, a thoroughbred
Yankee, was a man of great enterprise and energy, who was ten times
rich, and as often wretchedly poor again in his life, but died leaving
several millions. This Brandon, she says, was a banker and broker in New
York when the civil war broke out. He entered the army, and in less than
six months, thanks to his marvellous energy, he rose to be a general.
When peace came, he was without occupation, and did not know what on
earth to do with himself. Fortunately, his good star led him into a
region where large tracts of land happened to be for sale. He bought
them for a few thousand dollars, and soon after discovered on his
purchase the most productive oil-wells in all America. He was just about
to be another Peabody when a fearful accident suddenly ended his
life; he was burnt in an enormous fire that destroyed one of his
establishments.

"As to her mother, Miss Sarah says she lost her when she was quite
young, in a most romantic, though horrible manner"--

"What!" broke in Daniel, "has nobody taken the trouble to ascertain if
all these statements are true?"

"I am sure I do not know. This much is certain, that sometimes curious
facts leak out. For instance, I have fallen in with Americans who have
known a broker Brandon, a Gen. Brandon, a Petroleum Brandon."

"He may have borrowed the name."

"Certainly, especially when the original man is said to have died in
America. However, Miss Brandon has been living now for five years in
Paris. She came here accompanied by a Mrs. Brian, a relative of hers,
who is the dryest, boniest person you can imagine, but at the same time
the slyest woman I have ever seen. She also brought with her a kind
of protector, a Mr. Thomas Elgin, also a relation of hers, a most
extraordinary man, stiff like a poker, but evidently a dangerous man,
who never opens his mouth except when he eats. He is a famous hand at
small-swords, however, and snuffs his candle, nine times out of ten, at
a