"They have beautiful lace caps and embroidered gowns." "And you?" "I have nothing." I drew further away, that I might not get the mortal odor of this voice. "Why are you a domestic?" I resumed. "Because...." "Why did you leave home?" "Because...." "You were not happy?" She spoke very quickly, in a voice that rushed and rolled the words out, like pebbles. "My father whipped me; my mother whipped me; my sisters whipped me; everybody whipped me; they made me do everything. I brought up my sisters." "Why did they whip you?" "I do not know; just to whip me. In all families there is some one who is whipped ... because ... well, one does not know." My questions no longer annoyed her. She was gaining confidence. "And you?" she said to me, "did not your parents whip you?" "Oh! yes." "Of course; that is how things are." Louise was no longer exploring her nose; her two hands, with their close-clipped nails, lay flat upon her thighs. Whispering was going on around us. Laughs, quarrels, and lamentations prevented the others from hearing our conversation. "But how did you happen to come to Paris?" I asked, after a silence. "Last year," answered Louise, "there was a lady from Paris at Saint-Michel-en-Grève, who was taking the sea-baths with her children. She had discharged her domestic for stealing, and I offered to go to work for her. And so she took me with her to Paris, to take care of her father, an old invalid whose legs were paralyzed." "And you did not stay in your place? In Paris it is not the same thing." "No," she exclaimed, energetically. "I could have remained; it was not that. But I was not treated right." Her dull eyes lighted up strangely. Something like a gleam of pride passed over them. And her body straightened up, and became almost transfigured. "I was not treated right," she repeated. "The old man made advances to me." For a moment I was stunned by this revelation. Was it possible? Then a desire, even that of a low and nasty old man, had been felt for this bundle of shapeless flesh, this monstrous irony of nature? A kiss had wished to place itself upon these decaying teeth and mingle with this rotten breath? Ah! what filthy things men are! What a frightful madness, then, is love! I looked at Louise. But the flame had gone out of her eyes. Once more her pupils looked like dead gray spots. "That was some time ago?" I asked. "Three months." "And since then you have found no place?" "Nobody wants me. I do not know why. When I enter the bureau, all the ladies cry out at the sight of me: 'No, no; I don't want _her_.' There must surely be some spell over me. For, you know, I am not ugly; I am very strong; I know my work; and my will is good. If I am too small, it is not my fault. Surely, some one has thrown a spell over me." "How do you live?" "In a lodging-house. I do all the chambers, and I mend the linen. They give me a mattress in the garret, and a meal in the morning."