The ^Voman m the 
Dimity G own. 
By MARIAN BOWER. 
Illustrated by H. M. Brock, R.I. 
A FILLE,” said the Lieu- 
tenant Vachoux, a veteran 
from Napoleon’s Italian 
campaigns, who had lost the 
use of both legs and the 
sight of both eyes at Lodi 
some ten years previously, 
“ what is this ? ” and he indicated a certain 
point on the breast of his tunic. “ It feels 
like a rent that has been sewn up — like the 
long rent, parbleu , right down to the waist, 
which I got on my tunic as w r e went through 
the bushes at Lodi, and the Little Corporal, 
His Majesty that is, told us the few trifles 
he wanted of us. I had on my sergeant’s 
uniform — I was proud enough of the stripes 
then. Ma foi , girl, you have not put me on 
my old sergeant’s uniform to-day — me, the 
Lieutenant Vachoux — instead of the new one 
that I had made when the Emperor replied 
to the petition you forwarded for me and 
sent me my grade for ‘ Distinguished services 
rendered ’ ? ” 
The thin, anxious voice ceased. There 
followed just a little pause in the tiny white- 
washed room, where the old man half leaned, 
half sat, by the window waiting for the passing 
of the Emperor Napoleon, who that day was 
to honour the old town of St. Jean Pied de 
Port, nestling at the very foot of the 
Pyrenees, with a visit. 
At length Maric-Claire answered. 
“ No,” she returned. “ No, it is the right 
uniform.” 
“ But the tear ? ” persisted Vachoux. 
Marie-Claire came up behind the old man’s 
chair. 
“ Voyons she answered, in a soft, low 
voice, that had a hint of sorrow, of dismay, in 
it, “ you mistake, rnon ancle. That is the 
new seam to make the waist look smaller 
which Monsieur Schmitt puts into all the 
uniforms for Messieurs les officiers since the 
Emperor has issued the command that they 
are to have smarter figures than any Austrian 
or any German, not to mention those shop- 
keepers of English, whom you say the little 
man in grey is going to put in their places 
next.” 
Vachoux nodded. “ Good,” he muttered. 
“ Messieurs les officiers ! Baptiste Vachoux, 
lieutenant, decorated on the field for valour, 
in receipt of a pension for distinguished 
services. Good ! Even if His Majesty does 
not see me at this window — I wish the sashes 
would open wider — surely he will ask for me, 
Vachoux, formerly of the Army of Italy, 
whose petition His Majesty deigned to 
consider favourably ; Vachoux, who would 
expend two more eyes if he had them, and 
his arms as w r ell as his legs, in the service of 
the general who never forgets those who 
walked up to the cannon for him.” 
The old man with the sightless eyes, with 
the scant white hair almost falling on to his 
shoulders, with his right hand grasping his 
stick, sat still, muttering aloud of Lodi, of 
the Little Corporal, of what he would do had 
he his time to come over again for the great 
and glorious Emperor who had responded so 
liberally to a poor cripple’s petition, until the 
sun rose up and he felt its warmth on his 
face ; then he called to Marie-Claire. 
“ You dress yourself in the mnisselim des 
Indes ,” the veteran went on ; “ the dress that 
you bought when I was promoted. I gave 
you the money out of my first month’s 
pension. The niece of a commissioned officer 
must be dressed suitably. Muslin for her, 
though dimity would suffice for the sergeant’s 
niece.” 
“ Parfaitement ,” replied Marie-Claire, still 
invisible. “ I put on the muslin ; but you 
must breakfast before the Emperor comes. 
I will bring the soup to you this minute.” 
The Lieutenant Vachoux’ s adopted niece 
came towards the figure propped up in the 
arm-chair, and as she came towards the 
sunlight, as she looked at the crowds gathering 
in the streets, to Monsieur h Prefet bustling 
and hot, to Madame with the great bouquet 
that she was ready to present to the Empress, 
