of surprising breadth and more surprising velocity of speech.  She could pronounce more words to a single breath than any other person I have ever met.  She was German by birth, and spoke French with a strong German accent, while her English was a thing to wring the soul, sprinkled as it was with German “unds,” “ufs,” and “yousts,” and French “zees” and “zats.”  Our French being of the slow and precise kind, and her English of the rattling and at first incomprehensible type, the conversation was somewhat confused.  But even so, my friends noticed with surprise, that Madame did not address one word of welcome to me.  They hastened to introduce me, using my married name.

A momentary annoyance came into her face, then she dropped her lids haughtily, swept me from head to foot with one contemptuous glance, and without even the faintest nod in return to my “Bon jour, Madame,” she turned to Mrs. P——­, who, red with indignation, was trying to sputter out a demand for an explanation, and asked swiftly:—­

“Und zat ozzer lady? you vas to be t’ree—­n’est-ce pas?  She hav’ not com’ yed? to-morrow, perhaps, und—­und” (I saw what was coming, but my companions suspected nothing), “und”—­she dropped her lids again and indicated me with a contemptuous movement of the head—­“she, zat maid, you vant to make arrange for her?  You hav’ not write for room for zat maid?”

I leaned from the window to hide my laughter, for it seemed to me that Colonel P——­ jumped a foot, while the cry of his wife drowned the sound of the short, warm word that is of great comfort to angry men.  Before they could advance one word of explanation, an aproned waiter fairly burst into the room, crying for “Madame!  Madame! to come quick, for that Jules was at it very bad again!” And she wildly rushed out, saying over her shoulder, “By und by we zee for zat maid, und about zat udder lady, by und by also,” and so departed at a run with a great rattling of starch and fluttering of cap ribbons; for Jules, the head cook, already in the first stages of delirium tremens, was making himself interesting to the guests by trying to jump into the fountain basin to save the lives of the tiny ducklings, who were happily swimming there, and Madame F——­ was sorely needed.

Yes, I laughed—­laughed honestly at the helpless wrath of my friends, and pretended to laugh at the mistake; but all the time I was saying to myself, “Had I really been acting as maid, how cruelly I should have suffered under that contemptuous glance and from that withheld bow of recognition.”  She had found me well-dressed, intelligent, and well-mannered; yet she had insulted me, because she believed me to be a lady’s maid.  No wonder women find service bitter.