"An extraordinary box," they explained to me. "It is very astonishing at first, and then you get used to it. Sometimes there isn't a sou in the whole house. Then Madame goes, comes, runs, goes away and comes back again, nervous, tired, her mouth filled with high words. As for Monsieur, he never leaves the telephone. He shouts, threatens, begs, and raises the devil through the instrument. And the process-servers! It has often happened that the butler had to give something out of his own pocket, on account, to furious tradesmen who were unwilling to supply anything more. On one reception day the electricity and gas were cut off. And then, suddenly, there comes a rain of gold. The house is overflowing with wealth. Where does it come from? That nobody knows exactly. As for the servants, they wait months and months for their wages. But they are always paid at last; only after what scenes, after what insults, after what squabbles! It is incredible." Well, indeed, a nice place I had tumbled into! And such was my luck, for the one time in my life when I had good wages. "M. Xavier has not yet come in to-night," said the _valet de chambre_. "Oh!" exclaimed the cook, looking at me persistently, "perhaps he will return now." And the _valet de chambre_ related that that very morning a creditor of M. Xavier had come again to raise a row. It must have been a very dirty matter, for Monsieur had sung small, and had been obliged to pay a heavy sum,--at least four thousand francs. "Monsieur was in a pretty rage," he added; "I heard him say to Madame: 'This cannot last; he will disgrace us; he will disgrace us.'" The cook, who seemed very philosophical, shrugged her shoulders. "Disgrace them?" said she, with a chuckle; "little they care about that. It is the having to pay that bothers them." This conversation made me ill at ease. I understood vaguely that there might be some relation between Madame's garments, Madame's words, and M. Xavier. But exactly what? "It is having to pay that bothers them!" I did not sleep at all well that night, haunted by strange dreams and impatient to see M. Xavier. The _valet de chambre_ had not lied. A queer box, indeed!