She opened a pink lacker wardrobe, pulled out a large drawer full of fragrant garments, and emptied its contents, pell-mell, on the carpet.
"Take that, Mary; take it all. You will see there are some stitches to be taken, some repairs to be made, some little places to be mended.
You will attend to that.
Take it all; there is a little of everything; there is enough there to fit you out with a pretty wardrobe, a suitable trousseau.
Take it all."
Indeed, there was everything,—silk corsets, silk stockings, silk and fine linen chemises, loves of drawers, delicious ruffs, and ornamented petticoats. A strong odor, an odor of peau d'Espagne, of jasmine, of well-groomed woman, in short, an odor of love, rose from these piled-up garments whose soft, faded, or violent colors glistened on the carpet like a basket of flowers in a garden. I could not get over it; I stood thoroughly stupefied, contented and embarrassed at once, before this pile of pink, mauve, yellow, and red stuffs, in which there still were ribbons of brighter shades and delicate bits of lace. And Madame stirred up these old things that were still so pretty, these undergarments that were scarcely worn, showed them to me, selected for me, and advised me, indicating her preferences.
"I like the women in my service to be coquettish, elegant; I like to have them smell good. You are a brunette; here is a red skirt that will become you marvelously. Moreover, all these things will become you very well. Take them all."
I was in a state of profound stupefaction. I knew not what to do; I knew not what to say. Mechanically, I repeated:
"Thank you, Madame.
How good Madame is!
Thank you, Madame."
But Madame did not leave me time to get a clear idea of my own thoughts. She talked and talked, by turns familiar, shameless, maternal, pandering, and so strange!
"It is like cleanliness, Mary, care of the body, private toilets. Oh! I insist upon that, above all things. On this point I am exacting,—exacting to the point of mania."
She entered into intimate details, insisting always on this word "suitable," that came back continually to her lips apropos of things that were scarcely so,—at least, to my thinking.
As we finished our sorting of the garments, she said to me:
"A woman, no matter what woman, should always be well kept. For the rest, Mary, you will do as I do; this is a point of capital importance. You-will take a bath to-morrow. I will show you."
Then Madame took me to her room, showed me her closets, her hangings, the place for everything, familiarized me with the service, all the time making remarks that seemed to me queer and not natural.
"Now," said she, "let us go to M. Xavier's room. That, too, will be in your charge. M. Xavier is my son, Mary."
"Very well, Madame."
M. Xavier's room was situated at the other end of the vast apartment. A coquettish room, hung in blue cloth with yellow trimmings.
On the walls colored English engravings representing hunting and racing scenes, teams, chateaux.
A cane-holder stood in front of a panel,—a real panoply of canes, with a hunting-horn in the middle, flanked by two mail-coach trumpets crossed.
On the mantel, among many bibelots, cigar-boxes, and pipes, a photograph of a pretty boy, very young and still beardless, with the insolent face of a precocious dude and the uncertain grace of a girl,—the whole producing an effect that pleased me.
"That is M. Xavier," said Madame.
I could not help exclaiming, undoubtedly with too much warmth: "Oh! what a handsome boy!"
"Well, well, Mary!" exclaimed Madame.
I saw that my exclamation had not offended her, for she had smiled.
"M. Xavier is like all young people," she said to me.
"He is not very orderly. You must be orderly for him; and his room must be perfectly kept. You will enter the room every morning at nine o'clock; you will bring him his tea; at nine o'clock, you understand, Mary?
Sometimes M. Xavier comes home late. Perhaps he will not receive you well in the morning, but that makes no difference. A young man should be awakened at nine o'clock."
She showed me where M. Xavier kept his linen, his cravats, his shoes, accompanying each detail with some remark like this:
"My son is a little sharp, but he is a charming child."
Or else:
"Do you know how to fold pantaloons?
Oh! M. Xavier is especially particular about his pantaloons."
As for the hats, it was agreed that I need pay no attention to them, the glory of their daily ironing belonging to the valet de chambre.
I found it extremely odd that, in a house where there was a valet de chambre, Madame should select me to serve M. Xavier.
"It is funny, but perhaps it is not very suitable," I said to myself, parodying the word which my mistress was constantly repeating apropos of no matter what.
It is true that everything seemed odd to me in this odd house. _____
In the evening, in the servants' hall, I learned many things.
"An extraordinary box," they explained to me.
"It is very astonishing at first, and then you get used to it.
Sometimes there isn't a sou in the whole house.
Then Madame goes, comes, runs, goes away and comes back again, nervous, tired, her mouth filled with high words.
As for Monsieur, he never leaves the telephone.
He shouts, threatens, begs, and raises the devil through the instrument. And the process-servers! It has often happened that the butler had to give something out of his own pocket, on account, to furious tradesmen who were unwilling to supply anything more.
On one reception day the electricity and gas were cut off. And then, suddenly, there comes a rain of gold. The house is overflowing with wealth. Where does it come from?
That nobody knows exactly.
As for the servants, they wait months and months for their wages. But they are always paid at last; only after what scenes, after what insults, after what squabbles!
It is incredible."