"How do you mean, simple enough? you cannot have heard me read the letter. Madame la Duchesse wishes particularly 'that the pavilion should be rendered as comfortable as possible.' Now that is the very reason of my asking you to come to me to-day; Clara and I have been knocking our heads together in vain to discover what 'comfortable' can possibly mean, but without being able to find it out. Yet it seems odd, too, that Clara should not know its meaning, for she was several years at school at Villiers le Bel, and gained a quantity of prizes for history and geography; however, she knows as little as I do about that outlandish word. I dare say it is only known at court, or in the fashionable world. However, be that as it may, Madame la Duchesse has thrown me into a pretty fuss by making use of it; she says, and you see twice repeats the words, and even underlines it, 'that she requests I will furnish the pavilion as comfortably as possible.' Now what are we to do when we have not the slightest notion of the meaning of that word?"
"Well, heaven be praised, then, that I can relieve your perplexity by solving this grand mystery!" said Madame Georges, smiling. "Upon the present occasion the word comfortable merely means an assemblage of neat, well-chosen, well-arranged, and convenient furniture, so placed, in apartments well warmed and protected from cold or damp, that the occupant shall find every thing that is necessary combined with articles that to some might seem superfluities."
"Thank you. I perfectly understand what comfortable means as regards furnishing apartments; but your explanation only increases my difficulties."
"How so?"
"Madame la Duchesse speaks of carpets, furniture, and many et cœteras; now we have no carpets here, and our furniture is of the most homely description. Neither can I make out by the letter whether the person I am to expect is a male or female; and yet every thing must be prepared by to-morrow evening. What shall I do? What can I do? I can get nothing here. Really, Madame Georges, it is enough to drive one wild to be placed in such an awkward situation."
"But, mother," said Clara, "suppose you take the furniture out of my room, and whilst you are refurnishing it I will go and pass a few days with dear Marie at Bouqueval."
"My dear child, what nonsense you talk! as if the humble fittings-up of your chamber could equal what Madame la Duchesse means by the word 'comfortable,'" returned Madame Dubreuil, with a disconsolate shrug of the shoulders. "Lord! Lord! why will fine ladies puzzle poor folks like me by going out of their way to find such expressions as comfortable?"
"Then I presume the pavilion in question is ordinarily uninhabited?" said Madame Georges.
"Oh, yes! There, you see that small white building at the end of the orchard—that is it. The late Prince de Noirmont, father of Madame la Duchesse, caused it to be built for his daughter when, in her youthful days, she was accustomed to visit the farm, and she then occupied it. There are three pretty chambers in it, and a beautiful little Swiss dairy at the end of the garden, where, in her childish days, Madame la Duchesse used to divert herself with feigning to manage. Since her marriage, she has only been twice at the farm, but each time she passed several hours in the pavilion. The first time was about six years ago, and then she came on horseback with—" Then, as though the presence of Clara and Fleur-de-Marie prevented her from saying more, Madame Dubreuil interrupted herself by saying, "But I am talking instead of doing; and that is not the way to get out of my present difficulty. Come, dear, good Madame Georges, and help a poor bewildered creature like myself!"
"In the first place," answered Madame Georges, "tell me how is this pavilion furnished at the present moment."