"_Du tout_, madame, they are finished; I am so far from chapel I can only get there upon Sundays, or on the very great saints' days; but I have my _good corner_ here," pointing to the _prie-dieu_, which stood before what I had always imagined shelves, protected from the dust by a green baize curtain; "and you see I have my little remembrances behind this," added she, pulling the curtain aside, and displaying a crucifix, "the Virgin mild and sweet St. John" standing by, her string of beads, the crowns of everlastings from her parents', husband's, and children's graves, several prints of sacred subjects, and a shell containing holy water. Her simple piety was so sincere that I felt no desire to cavil at the little harmless superstitions mixed with it, but said, "You must have many sad and solitary hours; but you know where to look for consolation, I find." "Yes, indeed, madame. Without religion how could I have lived through my many sorrows! but God sustains me, and I am not unhappy, although wearing out my age in poverty and in a strange land, without one of those I loved left to comfort me; for if the longest life be short, the few years I have before _me_ are shorter still, and I thank Him daily for the comfort I derive from my Christian education." She was too delicate-minded to say Catholic, which I knew she meant, and I changed the subject, lest our ideas might not agree so well if we pursued it much further. "Pray, Madame Miau, what is the use of that odd-looking iron stand?" "It is for stewing or boiling: the baker sells me the burnt wood out of his oven (we call it _braise_ in France), which I mix with a little charcoal; this makes a capital fire, and in summer I dress my dinner. You see there are three pots, one above the other; this saves me the heat, and dirt, and expense of a fire in the grate, for it stands in the passage quite well, and stewed beefsteak is never so good as when dressed by it." "How do you manage?" "I make a rout, and put to it a quantity of onions minced small, and a bit of garlic, when they are quite soft; I add salt, a little pepper, and some flour and water, if I have no gravy or soup. Into this I put slices of beef, and let it stew slowly till quite done, and then thicken the sauce with polder starch. The neighbors down stairs like this so much, that we often go halves in both the food and firing, which greatly reduces the cost to both; and it keeps _so_ well, and heats up _so_ nicely! They eat it with boiled rice, which I never before saw done, and like very much; but I boil my rice more than they do, and beat it into a paste, with salt and an egg, and either brown it before the fire or fry it, which I think an improvement; but neighbor Green likes it all natural." "Oh, do tell me about _soupe à la graisse_; it sounds very uninviting." "I seldom take it in this country, where vegetables are so dear, and you must prepare your _graisse_ yourself." "How do you prepare it?"