“I thought you had lost both parents,” I said at length, rather lamely.

“Till lately I thought so too. Listen. I will tell you the tale of all my life. Not until to-night have I been able to put it together, and fill in the blanks.”

And this is what she told me:

“My father was travelling through Europe. He had money, and of course he met with adventures. One of his adventures was my mother. She lived among the vines near Avignon, in Southern France; her uncle was a small grape-grower. She belonged absolutely to the people, but she was extremely beautiful. I’m not exaggerating; she was. She was one of those women that believe everything, and my father fell in love with her. He married her properly at Avignon.