Oh, what a delightful moment!  Henriette, who had not the slightest idea of what I had gone out for, looked at everything with great pleasure, yet without any of those demonstrations which announce a selfish or interested disposition.  She shewed her gratitude only by the delicate praise which she bestowed upon my taste and upon the quality of the articles I had purchased.  She was not more cheerful on account of my presents, but the tender affection with which she looked at me was the best proof of her grateful feelings.

The valet I had hired had entered the room with the shoemaker.  Henriette told him quietly to withdraw, and not to come unless he was called.  The dressmaker set to work, the shoemaker took her measure, and I told him to bring some slippers.  He returned in a short time, and the valet came in again with him without having been called.  The shoemaker, who spoke French, was talking the usual nonsense of dealers, when she interrupted him to ask the valet, who was standing familiarly in the room, what he wanted.

“Nothing, madam, I am only waiting for your orders.”

“Have I not told you that you would be called when your services were required?”

“I should like to know who is my master, you or the gentleman?”

“Neither,” I replied, laughing.  “Here are your day’s wages.  Be off at once.”

The shoemaker, seeing that Henriette spoke only French, begged to recommend a teacher of languages.

“What country does he belong to?” she enquired.

“To Flanders, madam,” answered Crispin, “he is a very learned man, about fifty years old.  He is said to be a good man.  He charges three libbre for each lesson of one hour, and six for two hours, but he requires to be paid each time.”

“My dear,” said Henriette to me, “do you wish me to engage that master?”

“Yes, dearest, it will amuse you.”

The shoemaker promised to send the Flemish professor the next morning.

The dressmakers were hard at work, the mother cutting and the daughter sewing, but, as progress could not be too rapid, I told the mother that she would oblige us if she could procure another seamstress who spoke French.

“You shall have one this very day, sir,” she answered, and she offered me the services of her own son as a servant, saying that if I took him I should be certain to have neither a thief nor a spy about me, and that he spoke French pretty well.  Henriette thought we could not do better than take the young man.  Of course that was enough to make me consent at once, for the slightest wish of the woman we love is our supreme law.  The mother went for him, and she brought back at the same time the half-French dressmaker.  It all amused my goddess, who looked very happy.

The young man was about eighteen, pleasant, gentle and modest.  I enquired his name, and he answered that it was Caudagna.

The reader may very likely recollect that my father’s native place had been Parma, and that one of his sisters had married a Caudagna.  “It would be a curious coincidence,” I thought, “if that dressmaker should be my aunt, and my valet my cousin!” but I did not say it aloud.