ld to our first arrangement. It
mattered little, so long as I had a woman to help me. The chambermaid
appeared. I can give no better idea of the disordered and desperate
condition of my mind at that time than by owning that I actually
consulted this perfect stranger on the question of my personal
appearance. She was a middle-aged woman, with a large experience of the
world and its wickedness written legibly on her manner and on her face.
I put money into the woman's hand, enough of it to surprise her.
She thanked me with a cynical smile, evidently placing her own evil
interpretation on my motive for bribing her.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" she asked, in a confidential whisper.
"Don't speak loud! there is somebody in the next room."

"I want to look my best," I said, "and I have sent for you to help me."

"I understand, ma'am."

"What do you understand?"

She nodded her head significantly, and whispered to me again. "Lord
bless you, I'm used to this!" she said. "There is a gentleman in the
case. Don't mind me, ma'am. It's a way I have. I mean no harm." She
stopped, and looked at me critically. "I wouldn't change my dress if I
were you," she went on. "The color becomes you."

It was too late to resent the woman's impertinence. There was no help
for it but to make use of her. Besides, she was right about the dress.
It was of a delicate maize-color, prettily trimmed with lace. I could
wear nothing which suited me better. My hair, however, stood in need of
some skilled attention. The chambermaid rearranged it with a ready hand
which showed that she was no beginner in the art of dressing hair. She
laid down the combs and brushes, and looked at me; then looked at the
toilet-table, searching for something which she apparently failed to
find.

"Where do you keep it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at your complexion, ma'am. You will frighten him if he sees you
like that. A touch of color you _must_ have. Where do you keep it? What!
you haven't got it? you never use it? Dear, dear, dear me!"

For a moment surprise fairly deprived her of her self-possession.
Recovering herself, she begged permission to leave me for a minute. I
let her go, knowing what her errand was. She came back with a box of
paint and powders; and I said nothing to check her. I saw, in the glass,
my skin take a false fairness, my cheeks a false color, my eyes a false
brightness--and I never shrank from it. No! I let the odious conceit g