"Madame, hush, hush, you are ill."
"Ah!" dragging herself weakly to the door, "I must take an inventory. That is what I should have done before! If I don't make a list at once I shall lose something!"
"Take an inventory!" exclaimed the concierge mockingly, as she followed her. "The house won't change! After four years—it isn't now that it will change!" She paused at the door and looked back at Fanny. "Don't worry about the room, mademoiselle. She is like that—elle a des crises. She cannot possibly sleep here. Keep the room for a day or two till you find another."
"In a very few days I shall be going to England."
"Keep it a week if necessary. She will be persuaded when she is calmer.
Why did they let her come when they wrote me that she was a dying woman!
But no—elle est comme toujours—méchante pour tout le monde."
"You told me she thought only of Philippe."
"Ah, mademoiselle, she is like many of us! She has still her sense of property."
CHAPTER XX
THE LAST DAY
Around the Spanish Square the first sun-awnings had been put up in the night, awnings red and yellow, flapping in the mountain wind.