y the evening before to
the corps of footmen. "The place is really intolerable," she was saying.
"The wages are high, the food of the very best, the livery just such
as would show off a good-looking man to the best advantage, and Madame
Leon, the housekeeper, who has entire charge of everything, is not too
lynx-eyed."

"And the work?"

"A mere nothing. Think, there are eighteen of us to serve only two
persons, the count and Mademoiselle Marguerite. But then there is never
any pleasure, never any amusement here."

"What! is one bored then?"

"Bored to death. This grand house is worse than a tomb. No receptions,
no dinners--nothing. Would you believe it, I have never seen the
reception-rooms! They are always closed; and the furniture is dropping
to pieces under its coverings. There are not three visitors in the
course of a month."

She was evidently incensed, and the new footman seemed to share her
indignation. "Why, how is it?" he exclaimed. "Is the count an owl? A
man who's not yet fifty years old, and who's said to be worth several
millions."

"Yes, millions; you may safely say it--and perhaps ten, perhaps twenty
millions too."

"Then all the more reason why there should be something going on here.
What does he do with himself alone, all the blessed day?"

"Nothing. He reads in the library, or wanders about the garden.
Sometimes, in the evening, he drives with Mademoiselle Marguerite to the
Bois de Boulogne in a closed carriage; but that seldom happens. Besides,
there is no such thing as teasing the poor man. I've been in the house
for six months, and I've never heard him say anything but: 'yes'; 'no';
'do this'; 'very well'; 'retire.' You would think these are the only
words he knows. Ask M. Casimir if I'm not right."

"Our guv'nor isn't very gay, that's a fact," responded the valet.

The footman was listening with a serious air, as if greatly interested
in the character of the people whom he was to serve. "And mademoiselle,"
he asked, "what does she say to such an existence?"

"Bless me! during the six months she has been here, she has never once
complained."

"If she is bored," added M. Casimir, "she conceals it bravely."

"Naturally enough," sneered the waiting-maid, with an ironical gesture;
"each month that mademoiselle remains here, brings her too much money
for her to complain."

By the laugh that greeted this reply, and by the looks the older
servants exchanged, the new-comer must have reali