“What, still there?” he exclaimed, looking up sharply.  “Unworthy one, get thee quickly to the kitchen.  Is it seemly to keep the Princess waiting?”

“I am not a cook,” said Annalise defiantly.  “I was not engaged as a cook, I never was a cook, and I will not be a cook.”

Fritzing flung down the bill and came and glared close into Annalise’s face.  “Not a cook?” he cried.  “You, a German girl, the daughter of poor parents, you are not ashamed to say it?  You do not hide your head for shame?  No—­a being so useful, so necessary, so worthy of respect as a cook you are not and never will be.  I’ll tell you what you are,—­I’ve told you once already, and I repeat it—­you are a knave, my Fraeulein, a knave, I say.  And in those parts of your miserable nature where you are not a knave—­for I willingly concede that no man or woman is bad all through—­in those parts, I say, where your knavishness is intermittent, you are an absolute, unmitigated fool.”

“I will not bear this,” cried Annalise.

“Will not!  Cannot!  Shall not!  Inept Negation, get thee to thy kitchen and seek wisdom among the pots.”

“I am no one’s slave,” cried Annalise, “I am no one’s prisoner.”

“Hark at her!  Who said you were?  Have I not told you the only two things you are?”

“But I am treated as a prisoner, I am treated as a slave,” sobbed Annalise.

“Unmannerly one, how dare you linger talking follies when your royal mistress is waiting for her tea?  Run—­run!  Or must I show you how?”

“Her Grand Ducal Highness,” said Annalise, not budging, “told me also to prepare the bath for her this evening.”

“Well, what of that?” cried Fritzing, snatching up the bill again and adding up furiously.  “Prepare it, then.”

“I see no water-taps.”

“Woman, there are none.”

“How can I prepare a bath without water-taps?”

“O thou Inefficiency!  Ineptitude garbed as woman!  Must I then teach thee the elements of thy business?  Hast thou not observed the pump?  Go to it, and draw water.  Cause the water to flow into buckets.  Carry these buckets—­need I go on?  Will not Nature herself teach thee what to do with buckets?”

Annalise flushed scarlet.  “I will not go to the pump,” she said.

“What, you will not carry out her Grand Ducal Highness’s orders?”

“I will not go to the pump.”

“You refuse to prepare the bath?”

“I will not go to the pump.”

“You refuse to prepare the tea?”

“I will not be a cook.”

“You are rankly rebellious?”

“I will not sleep in the attic.”

“What!”

“I will not eat the food.”

“What!”

“I will not do the work.”

“What!”

“I will go.”

“Go?”

“Go,” repeated Annalise, stamping her foot.  “I demand my wages, the increased wages that were promised me, and I will go.”