'In winter too'?
Is there less work to be done in winter?
What a ridiculous question!, The chambermaid does the stairs, the salon, Monsieur's study, the chamber of course, and attends to all the fires. The cook does the ante-chamber, the halls, and the dining-room. I am very particular on the score of cleanliness. I cannot bear to see a speck of dust in the house. The door-knobs must be well polished, the furniture must shine, and the mirrors must be thoroughly cleaned. The chambermaid has charge of the poultry-yard."
"But, Madame, I know nothing about poultry-yards."
"Well, you will learn. The chambermaid soaps, washes, and irons, except Monsieur's shirts; she does the sewing,—I have no sewing done outside, except the making of my costumes; she waits on table, helps the cook to wipe the dishes, and does the polishing. There must be order, perfect order. I am a stickler for order and cleanliness, and especially for honesty. Moreover, everything is under lock and key. If anything is wanted, I must be asked for it. I have a horror of waste. What are you accustomed to take in the morning?"
"Coffee with milk, Madame."
"Coffee with milk?
You do not stint yourself. Yes, in these days they all take coffee with milk. Well, that is not the custom in my house. You will take soup; it is better for the stomach. What did you say?"
Jeanne had said nothing. But it was evident she was making an effort to say something.
At last she made up her mind.
"I ask Madame's pardon, but what does Madame give us to drink?"
"Six quarts of cider a week."
"I cannot drink cider, Madame. The doctor has forbidden me to."
"Ah! the doctor has forbidden you to. Well, I will give you six quarts of cider.
If you want wine, you will buy it.
That concerns you. What pay do you expect?"
She hesitated, looked at the carpet, the clock, and the ceiling, rolled her umbrella in her hands, and said, timidly:
"Forty francs."
"Forty francs!" exclaimed Madame.
"Why don't you say ten thousand francs, and done with it?
You must be crazy. Forty francs! Why, it is unheard of!
We used to pay fifteen francs, and got much better service. Forty francs!
And you do not even know how to fatten poultry!
You do not know how to do anything!
I pay thirty francs, and I think that altogether too much. You have no expenses in my house. I am not exacting as to what you wear. And you are washed and fed.
God knows how well you are fed! I give out the portions myself."
Jeanne insisted:
"I have had forty francs in all the places where I have worked."
But the lady had risen. And, in a dry and ugly voice, she exclaimed:
"Well, you had better go back to them. Forty francs!
Such impudence!
Here are your recommendations—your recommendations from dead people. Be off with you!"
Jeanne carefully wrapped up her recommendations, put them back into the pocket of her dress, and then said, imploringly, in a timid and sorrowful voice:
"If Madame will go as high as thirty-five francs, we could come to terms."
"Not a sou. Be off with you! Go to Algeria to find again your Mme. Robert. Go where you like. There is no lack of vagabonds like you; there are heaps of them. Be off with you."
With sad face and slow step Jeanne left the bureau, after curtseying twice.
I saw from her eyes and lips that she was on the point of crying.
Left alone, the lady shouted furiously:
"Ah! these domestics, what a plague! It is impossible to be served these days."
To which Mme. Paulhat-Durand, who had finished sorting her cards, answered, majestic, crushed, and severe:
"I had warned you, Madame; they are all like that. They are unwilling to do anything, and expect to earn hundreds and thousands. I have nothing else to-day. All the others are worse. To-morrow I will try to find you something.
Oh! it is very distressing, I assure you."
I got down from my post of observation the very moment that Jeanne Le Godec was re-entering the ante-room, amid an uproar.
"Well?" they asked her.
She went and sat down on her bench at the rear of the room, and there, with lowered head, folded arms, heavy heart, and empty stomach, she remained in silence, her two little feet twitching nervously under her gown. _____
But I saw things sadder still.
Among the girls who came daily to Mme. Paulhat-Durand's I had noticed one especially, in the first place because she wore a Breton cap, and then because the very sight of her filled me with unconquerable melancholy.
A peasant girl astray in Paris, in this frightful, jostling, feverish Paris,—I know nothing more lamentable.
Involuntarily it invites me to a survey of my own past, and moves me infinitely. Where is she going?
Where does she come from?