ht, I felt, to be what Americans
call a "function"; a ceremony for which you would prepare with perfumed
ointments and ambergris, and protract for half a day, at least, not to
be wasteful. Then there was the vapour bath, which you took in a kind
of box, with a hole for your head to stick out; a porcelain sitz bath;
and a mysterious shower bath into which you secretively retired behind
canvas curtains, shaped like a sentry box.

I dared not try the vapour, for fear I should be steamed, like a
potato; the sitz seemed as inadequate as a thwarted ambition; and to
turn on the shower without knowing how much it could do, or how soon it
could be stopped, appeared a desperate adventure. After all, I thought,
it was less worrying with us. Here, whichever thing you chose, you
would probably wish you had had the other, whereas at home you did what
you could, and were perfectly satisfied.

I decided that I would toss up a coin; heads, the big marble tank;
tails, the shower. It came tails, and I had a dreadful qualm, but
_noblesse oblige_; one must be sporting. So I was; only the hot water
wouldn't come, and apparently there was ice in the cold, which wouldn't
stop coming, and it was very violent. I screamed once, and Mrs. Ess Kay
and Sally and Louise ran to the door, which was embarrassing; but
fortunately, I'd locked it, and they told me how to stop the iced
water. When it was all over, I felt like a marble statue for hours.

Dinner was at half past seven, which seemed odd in such a grand palace
of a house, because, of course, at home, for some extraordinary reason
unless you are in the middle classes, you never have an appetite before
eight, at the very earliest. If you're in France, or other countries on
the Continent, you can be hungry sooner, and evidently it is the same
in America. Perhaps, if I were scientific, I should be able to classify
these differences as natural phenomena.

I had dressed myself early, and was ready a little after seven, because
I thought it would be nice to sit in the fountain court; but just as I
was going down Louise knocked at the door.

"I have come to help Miladi, and to bring her these flowers," said she.
"They are with _mille compliments_ from Monsieur the Lieutenant Parker,
the brother of Madame."

"But I have never met him," I said, gazing with wonder upon a group
(bunch is too mean a word) of mammoth pink roses, with thickly leaved
stems, longer than walking sticks. There were at least