made bold to write Germinie's name with her finger in
the dust on her mirror; Germinie did not forgive her for a week. At last
mademoiselle became resigned. She hardly ventured to remark mildly, when
she saw that her maid was in good humor: "Confess, Germinie, that the
dust is very well treated with us!"

To the wondering observations of the friends who still came to see her
and whom Germinie was forced to admit, mademoiselle would reply, in a
compassionate, sympathetic tone: "Yes, it is filthy, I know! But what
can you expect? Germinie's sick, and I prefer that she shouldn't kill
herself." Sometimes, when Germinie had gone out, she would venture to
rub a cloth over a commode or touch a frame with the duster, with her
gouty hands. She would do it hurriedly, afraid of being scolded, of
having a scene, if the maid should return and detect her.

Germinie did almost no work; she barely served mademoiselle's meals. She
had reduced her mistress's breakfast and dinner to the simplest dishes,
those which she could cook most easily and quickly. She made her bed
without raising the mattress, _a l'Anglaise_. The servant that she had
been was not to be recognized in her, did not exist in her, except on
the days when mademoiselle gave a small dinner party, the number of
covers being always considerable on account of the party of children
invited. On those days Germinie emerged, as if by enchantment, from her
indolence and apathy, and, putting forth a sort of feverish strength,
she recovered all her former energy in face of her ovens and the
lengthened table. And mademoiselle was dumfounded to see her, all by
herself, declining assistance and capable of anything, prepare in a few
hours a dinner for half a score of persons, serve it and clear the table
afterwards, with the nimble hands and all the quick dexterity of her
youth.

XL

"No--not this time, no," said Germinie, rising from the foot of
Jupillon's bed where she was sitting. "There's no way. Why, you know
perfectly well that I haven't a sou--anything you can call a sou! You've
seen the stockings I wear, haven't you?"

She lifted her skirt and showed him her stockings, all full of holes and
tied together with strings. "I haven't a change of anything. Money? Why,
I didn't even have enough to give mademoiselle a few flowers on her
birthday. I bought her a bunch of violets for a sou! Oh! yes, money,
indeed! That last twenty francs--do you know where I got them? I took