“But papa, poor papa, he never knew anything of that, of course.  He would get furious when any one would come to see me, and sometimes, when he would take me in society, if I danced with a ’nobody,’—­as he called no matter whom I danced with,—­he would come up and take me away with such an air—­such an air!  It would seem that papa thought himself better than everybody in the world.  But it went worse and worse with papa, not only in the affairs of the world, but in health.  Always thinner and thinner, always a cough; in fact, you know, I am a little feeble-chested myself, from papa.  And Clementine!  Clementine with her children—­just think, Louise, eight!  I thank God my mama had only me, if papa’s second wife had to have so many.  And so naughty!  I assure you, they were all devils; and no correction, no punishment, no education—­but you know Clementine!  I tell you, sometimes on account of those children I used to think myself in ’ell [making the Creole’s attempt and failure to pronounce the h], and Clementine had no pride about them.  If they had shoes, well; if they had not shoes, well also.

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“‘But Clementine!’ I would expostulate, I would pray—­

“‘But do not be a fool, Mimi,’ she would say.  ’Am I God?  Can I do miracles?  Or must I humiliate your papa?’

“That was true.  Poor papa!  It would have humiliated papa.  When he had money he gave; only it was a pity he had no money.  As for what he observed, he thought it was Clementine’s negligence.  For, it is true, Clementine had no order, no industry, in the best of fortune as in the worst.  But to do her justice, it was not her fault this time, only she let him believe it, to save his pride; and Clementine, you know, has a genius for stories.  I assure you, Louise, I was desperate.  I prayed to God to help me, to advise me.  I could not teach—­I had no education; I could not go into a shop—­that would be dishonoring papa—­and enfin, I was too pretty.  ‘And proclaim to the world,’ Clementine would cry, ‘that your papa does not make money for his family.’  That was true.  The world is so malicious.  You know, Louise, sometimes it seems to me the world is glad to hear that a man cannot support his family; it compliments those who can.  As if papa had not intelligence, and honor, and honesty!  But they do not count now as in old times, ’before the war.’

“And so, when I thought of that, I laughed and talked and played the thoughtless like Clementine, and made bills.  We made bills—­we had to—­for everything; we could do that, you know, on our old name and family.  But it is too long!  I am sure it is too long and tiresome!  What egotism on my part!  Come, we will take a glass of anisette, and talk of something else—­your trip, your family.  No? no?  You are only asking me out of politeness!  You are so aimable, so kind.  Well, if you are not ennuyee—­in fact, I want to tell you.  It was too long to write, and I detest a pen.  To me there is no instrument of torture like a pen.