His face was familiar to the keepers of certain stalls near to where Covent Garden Market now stands.
He bought flowers for Madame when he could not afford himself food.

He sold his waistcoat, and buttoned his coat across him--and looked thinner than ever.
Then the day came when Madame wished, and he could not gratify her wish.

Everything was gone.

He said, "This will kill me, Jeanette;" and Jeanette believed him.
Nurse Brown (according to her own account) assured Jeanette that it would not.

"Folk doesn't die of such things, says I." But, in spite of common-sense and experience, Monsieur de Vandaleur did die of grief, or something very like it, within twenty-four hours of the death of his wife, and the birth of their only son.
For some years the faithful Jeanette supported this child by her own industry.