led the pleasure she found in visiting her daughter, as the
two could not talk so freely when he was there. And so one day, when
Francoise was going to their house, some miles from Combray, Mamma said
to her, with a smile: "Tell me, Francoise, if Julien has had to go away,
and you have Marguerite to yourself all day, you will be very sorry, but
will make the best of it, won't you?"

And Francoise answered, laughing: "Madame knows everything; Madame
is worse than the X-rays" (she pronounced 'x' with an affectation
of difficulty and with a smile in deprecation of her, an unlettered
woman's, daring to employ a scientific term) "they brought here for Mme.
Octave, which see what is in your heart"--and she went off, disturbed
that anyone should be caring about her, perhaps anxious that we should
not see her in tears: Mamma was the first person who had given her the
pleasure of feeling that her peasant existence, with its simple joys
and sorrows, might offer some interest, might be a source of grief or
pleasure to some one other than herself.

My aunt resigned herself to doing without Francoise to some extent
during our visits, knowing how much my mother appreciated the services
of so active and intelligent a maid, one who looked as smart at five
o'clock in the morning in her kitchen, under a cap whose stiff and
dazzling frills seemed to be made of porcelain, as when dressed for
churchgoing; who did everything in the right way, who toiled like a
horse, whether she was well or ill, but without noise, without the
appearance of doing anything; the only one of my aunt's maids who when
Mamma asked for hot water or black coffee would bring them actually
boiling; she was one of those servants who in a household seem least
satisfactory, at first, to a stranger, doubtless because they take
no pains to make a conquest of him and shew him no special attention,
knowing very well that they have no real need of him, that he will cease
to be invited to the house sooner than they will be dismissed from it;
who, on the other hand, cling with most fidelity to those masters and
mistresses who have tested and proved their real capacity, and do not
look for that superficial responsiveness, that slavish affability,
which may impress a stranger favourably, but often conceals an utter
barrenness of spirit in which no amount of training can produce the
least trace of individuality.

When Francoise, having seen that my parents had everything they
re