rtense, when she mentioned
Louis, described him as having what she called "des moyens," but as
being too backward and quiet. Her praise of Robert was in a different
strain, less qualified: she was very proud of him; she regarded him as
the greatest man in Europe; all he said and did was remarkable in her
eyes, and she expected others to behold him from the same point of view;
nothing could be more irrational, monstrous, and infamous than
opposition from any quarter to Robert, unless it were opposition to
herself.

Accordingly, as soon as the said Robert was seated at the
breakfast-table, and she had helped him to a portion of stewed pears,
and cut him a good-sized Belgian tartine, she began to pour out a flood
of amazement and horror at the transaction of last night, the
destruction of the frames.

"Quelle idee! to destroy them. Quelle action honteuse! On voyait bien
que les ouvriers de ce pays etaient a la fois betes et mechants. C'etait
absolument comme les domestiques anglais, les servantes surtout: rien
d'insupportable comme cette Sara, par exemple!"

"She looks clean and industrious," Mr. Moore remarked.

"Looks! I don't know how she looks, and I do not say that she is
altogether dirty or idle, mais elle est d'une insolence! She disputed
with me a quarter of an hour yesterday about the cooking of the beef;
she said I boiled it to rags, that English people would never be able to
eat such a dish as our bouilli, that the bouillon was no better than
greasy warm water, and as to the choucroute, she affirms she cannot
touch it! That barrel we have in the cellar--delightfully prepared by my
own hands--she termed a tub of hog-wash, which means food for pigs. I am
harassed with the girl, and yet I cannot part with her lest I should get
a worse. You are in the same position with your workmen, pauvre cher
frere!"

"I am afraid you are not very happy in England, Hortense."

"It is my duty to be happy where you are, brother; but otherwise there
are certainly a thousand things which make me regret our native town.
All the world here appears to me ill-bred (mal-eleve). I find my habits
considered ridiculous. If a girl out of your mill chances to come into
the kitchen and find me in my jupon and camisole preparing dinner (for
you know I cannot trust Sarah to cook a single dish), she sneers. If I
accept an invitation out to tea, which I have done once or twice, I
perceive I am put quite into the background; I have not that a