"When I first went into M. Ferrand's house," said Louise, "I had nothing to complain of with respect to him. I had a great deal to do, and the housekeeper often scolded me, and the house was very dull; but I endured everything very patiently. Service is service, and, perhaps, elsewhere I should have other disagreeables. M. Ferrand was a very stern-looking person; he went to mass, and frequently had priests in his house. I did not at all distrust him; for at first he hardly ever looked at me, spoke short and cross, especially when there were any strangers. Except the porter who lived at the entrance, in the same part of the house as the office is in, I was the only servant, with Madame Seraphin, the housekeeper. The pavilion that we occupied was isolated between the court and the garden. My bedroom was high up. I was often afraid, being, as I was, always alone, either in the kitchen, which is underground, or in my bedroom. One day I had worked very late mending some things that were required in a hurry, and then I was going to bed, when I heard footsteps moving quietly in the little passage at the end of which my room was situated; some one stopped at my door. At first I supposed it was the housekeeper; but, as no one entered, I began to be alarmed. I dared not move, but I listened; however, I heard no one; yet I was sure that there was some one behind my door. I asked twice who was there, but no one answered; I then pushed my chest of drawers against the door, which had neither lock nor bolt. I still listened, but nothing stirred; so at the end of half an hour, which seemed very long to me, I threw myself on my bed, and the night passed quietly. The next morning I asked the housekeeper's leave to have a bolt put on my door, which had no fastening, telling her of my fright on the previous night, and she told me I had been dreaming, and that, if I wanted a bolt, I must ask M. Ferrand for it. When I asked him, he shrugged up his shoulders, and said I was crazy; so I did not dare say any more about it. Some time after this, the misfortune about the diamond happened. My father in his despair did not know what to do. I told Madame Seraphin of his distress, and she replied; 'Monsieur is so charitable, perhaps he will do something for your father.' The same afternoon, when I was waiting at table, M. Ferrand said to me, suddenly, 'Your father is in want of thirteen hundred francs; go and tell him to come to my office this evening, and he shall have the money.' At this mark of kindness I burst into tears, and did not know how to thank him, when he said, with his usual bluntness, 'Very good, very good; oh, what I do is nothing!' The same evening, after my work, I came to my father to tell him the good news; the next day--"