Moreover four girls, with great chattering, invariably prepared my bath—­which circumstances decided me to take at night—­and I had to wait until all their confidences—­exchanged as they sat in a row on the edge of the two tubs—­were over.  Then something happened to the boiler, and as all the plumbers were in the trenches, and ubiquitous woman seemed to have stopped short in her new accomplishments at mending pipes, I had to wait until a permissionnaire came home on his six days’ leave, and that was for five weeks.  More than once I decided to go back to the Crillon, where the bathrooms are the last cry in luxury, for I detest the makeshift bath, but by this time I was too fascinated by the Ecole to tear myself away.

Naturally out of thirty girls there were some antagonistic personalities, and two or three I took such an intense dislike to that I finally prevailed upon Mlle. Jacquier to keep them out of my room and away from my table.  But the majority of the students were “regular girls.”  At first I was as welcome in the dining-room as a Prussian sentinel, and they exchanged desultory remarks in whispers; but after a while they grew accustomed to me and chattered like magpies.  I could hear them again in their dormitories until about half-past ten at night.  Mlle. Jacquier asked me once with some anxiety if I minded, and I assured her that I liked it.  This was quite true, for these girls, all so eager and natural, and even gay, despite the tragedy in the background of many, seemed to me the brightest spot in Paris.

It is true that I remonstrated, and frequently, against the terrific noise they made every morning at seven o’clock when they clamped across the uncarpeted hall and down the stairs.  But although they would tiptoe for a day they would forget again, and I finally resigned myself.  I also did my share in training them to wait on a guest in her room!  Not one when I arrived had anything more than a theoretical idea of what to do beyond making a bed, sweeping, and dusting.  I soon discovered that the more exacting I was—­and there were times when I was exceeding stormy—­the better Mlle. Jacquier was pleased.

She had her hands full.  Her discipline was superb and she addressed each with invariable formality as “Mademoiselle——­“; but they were real girls, full of vitality, and always on the edge of rebellion.  I listened to some stinging rebukes delivered by Mlle. Jacquier when she would arise in her wrath in the dining-room and address them collectively.  She knew how to get under their skin, for they would blush, hang their heads, and writhe.

VI

But Mlle. Jacquier told me that what really kept them in order was the influence of Mlle. Thompson.  At first she came every week late in the afternoon to give them a talk; then every fortnight; then—­oh la! la!

I listened to one or two of these talks.  The girls sat in a semicircle, hardly breathing, their eyes filling with tears whenever Mlle. Thompson, who sat at a table at the head of the room, played on that particular key.