After supper I sent out Le Duc and the other servant, and as soon as I was alone with my too lovely housekeeper, who had behaved at table like a woman of the world, I begged her to tell me her history.

“My history, sir, is short enough, and not very interesting.  I was—­born at Lyons, and my relations took me to Lausanne, as I have been told, for I was too young at the time to remember anything about it.  My father, who was in the service of Madame d’Ermance, left me an orphan when I was fourteen.  Madame d’Ermance was fond of me, and knowing that my mother’s means were small she took me to live with her.  I had attained my seventeenth year when I entered the service of Lady Montagu as lady’s maid, and some time after I was married to Dubois, an old servant of the house.  We went to England, and three years after my marriage I lost my husband.  The climate of England affected my lungs, and I was obliged to beg my lady to allow me to leave her service.  The worthy lady saw how weak I was, and paid the expenses of my journey and loaded me with rich presents.  I returned to my mother at Lausanne, where my health soon returned, and I went into the service of an English lady who was very fond of me, and would have taken me with her to Italy if she had not conceived some suspicions about the young Duke of Rosebury, with whom she was in love, and whom she thought in love with me.  She suspected me, but wrongfully, of being her rival in secret.  She sent me away, after giving me rich presents, and saying how sorry she was she could not keep me.  I went back to my mother, and for two years I have lived with the toil of my hands.  Four days ago M. Lebel, the ambassador’s steward, asked me if I would enter the service of an Italian gentleman as housekeeper.  I agreed, in the hope of seeing Italy, and this hope is the cause of my stupidity.  In short:  here I am.”

“What stupidity are you referring to?”

“The stupidity of having entered your service before I knew you.”

“I like your freedom.  You would not have come, then, if you had not known me?”

“Certainly not, for no lady will ever take me after having been with you.”

“Why not? may I ask.”

“Well, sir; do you think you are the kind of man to have a house-keeper like myself without the public believing my situation to be of quite a different nature?”

“No, you are too pretty, and I don’t look like a fossil, certainly; but after all, what matter does it make?”

“It is all very well for you to make light of it, and if I were in your place I would do the same; but how am I, who am a woman and not in an independent position, to set myself above the rules and regulations of society?”

“You mean, Madame Dubois, that you would very much like to go back to Lausanne?”

“Not exactly, as that would not be just to you.”

“How so?”

“People would be sure to say that either your words or your deeds were too free, and you might possibly pass a rather uncharitable judgment on me.”