Banks and banking -- France -- History -- 19th -- Fiction
Her interest aroused, Madame Caroline had watched her neighbours out of
tender sympathy, without evil curiosity of any kind; and gradually from
her view of the garden she penetrated their life, which they hid with
jealous care from the street. There was still a horse in the stable,
and a carriage in the coach-house, in the care of an old domestic who
was at once valet, coachman, and door-porter; just as there was a cook,
who also served as a chambermaid; but if the carriage went out at
the main gate, with the horse properly harnessed, to take the ladies
visiting, and if there was a certain display at table in the winter, at
the fortnightly dinners to which a few friends came, how long were the
fasts, how sordid the economies that were hourly practised in order to
secure this false semblance of fortune! In a little shed, screened from
every eye, there were, in order to reduce the laundry bill, continual
washings of wretched garments worn out by frequent soaping, and mended
thread by thread; three or four vegetables were picked for the evening
meal; bread was allowed to grow stale on a board, in order that less
of it might be eaten; all sorts of avaricious, mean, and touching
practices were resorted to: the old coachman would sew up the holes in
Mademoiselle's boots, the cook would blacken the tips of Madame's faded
gloves with ink; and then the mother's dresses were passed over to the
daughter after ingenious transformations; and hats and bonnets lasted
for years, thanks to changes of flowers and ribbons.
When they were expecting no one, the reception rooms on the ground
floor were kept carefully closed, as well as the large apartments of
the first storey; for, of the whole large pile, the two women now
occupied but one small room, which they used both as their dining-room
and boudoir. When the window was partly open, the Countess could be
seen mending her linen, like some needy little _bourgeoise_; while
the young girl, between her piano and her box of water-colours, knit
stockings and mittens for her mother. One very stormy day, both were
seen to go down into the garden, and gather up the sand of the pathway,
which the violence of the rain was sweeping away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account