Jeanne of the Marshes

The Princess opened her eyes at the sound of her maid's approach. She turned her head impatiently toward the door.
Annette, she said coldly, did you misunderstand me? Did I not say that I was on no account to be disturbed this afternoon?
Annette was the picture of despair. Eyebrows and hands betrayed alike both her agitation of mind and her nationality.
Madame, she said, did I not say so to monsieur? I begged him to call again. I told him that madame was lying down with a bad headache, and that it was as much as my place was worth to disturb her. What did he answer? Only this. That it would be as much as my place was worth if I did not come up and tell you that he was here to see you on a very urgent matter. Indeed, madame, he was very, very impatient with me.
Of whom are you talking? the Princess asked.
But of Major Forrest, madame, Annette declared. It is he who waits below.
The Princess closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly opened them. She stretched out her hand, and from a table by her side took up a small gilt mirror.
Turn on the lights, Annette, she commanded.
The maid illuminated the darkened room. The Princess gazed at herself in the mirror, and reaching out again took a small powder-puff from its case and gently dabbed her face. Then she laid both mirror and powder-puff back in their places.
You will tell monsieur, she said, that I am very unwell indeed, but that since he is here and his business is urgent I will see him. Turn out the lights, Annette. I am not fit to be seen. And move my couch a little, so.