"Yes, yes! I see you have many others. I see that you have been in many places,--much too many places. At your age, that is not very prepossessing! Well, leave me your recommendations, and I will see. Now something else. What can you do?" "I can do housework, sew, wait on table." "Are you good at mending?" "Yes, Madame." "Do you know how to fatten poultry?" "No, Madame. That is not my business." "Your business, my girl," declared the lady, severely, "is to do what your masters tell you to do. You must have a detestable character." "Why, no, Madame. I am not at all inclined to talk back." "Naturally. You say so; they all say so; and they are not to be touched with a pair of tongs. Well, let me see, I believe I have already told you that the place, while not particularly hard, is of some importance. The servants rise at five o'clock." "In winter too?" "In winter too. Yes, certainly. And why do you say: 'In winter too'? Is there less work to be done in winter? What a ridiculous question!, The chambermaid does the stairs, the _salon_, Monsieur's study, the chamber of course, and attends to all the fires. The cook does the ante-chamber, the halls, and the dining-room. I am very particular on the score of cleanliness. I cannot bear to see a speck of dust in the house. The door-knobs must be well polished, the furniture must shine, and the mirrors must be thoroughly cleaned. The chambermaid has charge of the poultry-yard." "But, Madame, I know nothing about poultry-yards." "Well, you will learn. The chambermaid soaps, washes, and irons, except Monsieur's shirts; she does the sewing,--I have no sewing done outside, except the making of my costumes; she waits on table, helps the cook to wipe the dishes, and does the polishing. There must be order, perfect order. I am a stickler for order and cleanliness, and especially for honesty. Moreover, everything is under lock and key. If anything is wanted, I must be asked for it. I have a horror of waste. What are you accustomed to take in the morning?" "Coffee with milk, Madame." "Coffee with milk? You do not stint yourself. Yes, in these days they all take coffee with milk. Well, that is not the custom in my house. You will take soup; it is better for the stomach. What did you say?" Jeanne had said nothing. But it was evident she was making an effort to say something. At last she made up her mind. "I ask Madame's pardon, but what does Madame give us to drink?" "Six quarts of cider a week." "I cannot drink cider, Madame. The doctor has forbidden me to." "Ah! the doctor has forbidden you to. Well, I will give you six quarts of cider. If you want wine, you will buy it. That concerns you. What pay do you expect?" She hesitated, looked at the carpet, the clock, and the ceiling, rolled her umbrella in her hands, and said, timidly: "Forty francs."