"She replied with her eternal 'Che mi fa?' I thereupon took up her little black wooden box, just like those which servants use, and took it into the room on the right, which I had chosen for her—for us. A bit of paper was fastened on to the box, on which was written, 'Mademoiselle Francesca Rondoli, Genoa.'
"'Your name is Francesca?' I asked, and she nodded her head, without replying.
"'We shall have supper directly,' I continued. 'Meanwhile, I daresay you would like to freshen yourself up a bit!'
"She answered with a 'mica,' a phrase which she employed just as frequently as 'Che mi fa,' but I went on: 'It is always pleasant after a journey.'
"Then I suddenly remembered that she had not, perhaps, the necessary objects, for she appeared to me in a very singular position, as if she had just escaped from some disagreeable adventure, and I brought her my dressing-case.
"I put out all the little instruments for cleanliness and comfort which it contained: a nailbrush, a new toothbrush,—for I always carry a selection of them about with me,—my nail-scissors, a nail-file, and sponges. I uncorked a bottle of Eau de Cologne, one of lavender-water, and a little bottle of new-mown hay, so that she might have a choice. Then I opened my powder-box, and put out the powder-puff, put my fine towels over the water-jug, and placed a piece of new soap near the basin.
"She watched my movements with a vexed look in her wide-open eyes, without appearing either surprised or pleased by my forethought.
"Here is all that you require, I then said; 'I will tell you when supper is ready.'
"When I returned to the sitting-room I found that Paul had taken possession of the other room, and had shut himself in, so I sat down to wait.
"A waiter went back and forth, bringing plates and glasses. He laid the table slowly, then put a cold fowl on it, and told me that all was ready.