"I see nothing. You hear what I say; there is an end of it," and she waved her hand imperiously.
The cook, with his face scarlet and quivering with rage, stood without stirring for a few seconds. Then, before he withdrew, he boldly fixed his wrathful gaze on the girl, who kept her eyes on the carpet with a bland hypocrisy which betrayed the triumph of her self-importance.
"Tell-tale!" he said, spitting out the words rather than speaking them.
The lady rose from her seat, and, bursting with rage at this want of respect, she exclaimed:
"How dare you insult her before my face? Go, instantly. Get out of my sight!"
"Señora, what I say is, that the fault is hers."
"So much the better. Go!"
"We will all go—out of the house, Señora. We can none of us put up with that impudent minx!"
"You go forthwith, as though you had never come! You may find yourself another place, for I will never allow any servant to get the upper hand of me."
The cook, in some dismay at this prompt dismissal, again stood rooted to the spot; but, suddenly recovering himself, he turned on his heel, saying with dignity: