I confidently swallowed all she put before me.  Strange and mysterious ragout!  I dared not ask what was in it, but I vainly sought for the relics of any animal I had ever seen; what did she make it of?  It is a secret that I fear I shall die without discovering.

Well, this woman, so devoted, so resigned in the days of adversity; this feminine Caleb, whose generous care assuaged my misery; who, when I suffered, deemed it her duty to suffer with me; when I worked day and night, considered it an honor to labor day and night with me—­now that she knows we are restored to our fortune, cannot endure the least privation.

All day long she complains.  Every order is received with imprecatory mutterings, such as “What an idiotic idea!  What folly! to be as rich as Croesus and find amusement in poverty!  To come and live in a little hole with common people and refuse to visit duchesses in their castles!  People must not be surprised if I don’t obey orders that I don’t understand.”

She is stubborn and refractory.  She will drive me to despair, so determined does she seem to thwart all my plans.  I tell her to call me Madame; she persists in calling me Mademoiselle.  I told her to bring simple dresses and country shoes; she has brought nothing but embroidered muslins, cobweb handkerchiefs and gray silk boots.  I entreated her to put on a simple dress, when she came with me.  This made her desperate, and through vengeance and maliciously exaggerated zeal she bundled herself up like an old witch.  I tried to make her comprehend that her frightfulness far exceeded my wildest wishes; she thereupon disarmed me with this sublime reply: 

“I had nothing but new hats and new shawls, and so had to borrow these clothes to obey Mademoiselle’s orders.”

Would you believe it?  The proud old woman has destroyed or hidden all the old clothes that were witnesses of our past misery.  I am more humble, and have kept everything.  When I returned to my little garret, I was delighted to see again my modest furniture, my pretty pink chintz curtains, my thin blue carpet, my little ebony shelves, and then all the precious objects I had saved from the wreck; my father’s old easy-chair, my mother’s work-table, and all of our family portraits, concealed, like proud intruders, in one corner of the room, where haughty marshals, worthy prelates, coquettish marquises, venerable abbesses, sprightly pages and gloomy cavaliers all jostled together, and much astonished to find themselves in such a wretched little room, and what is worse, shamefully disowned by their unworthy descendant.  I love my garret, and remained there three days before coming here; and there I left my fine princess dresses and put on my modest travelling suit; there the elegant Irene once more became the interesting widow of the imaginary Albert Guerin.  We started at nine in the morning.  I had the greatest difficulty in getting ready for the early train, so soon have I forgotten my old habit of early rising.  When I look back and recall how for three years I arose at dawn, it looks like a wretched dream.  I suppose it is because I have become so lazy.