“Thank you, sir,” said the woman, softly; and then, instead of retiring with her message, she advanced into the room. She looked about her for a moment, and presently went to a table and began to arrange certain books and knick-knacks. Newman was struck with the high respectability of her appearance; he was afraid to address her as a servant. She busied herself for some moments with putting the table in order and pulling the curtains straight, while Newman walked slowly to and fro. He perceived at last from her reflection in the mirror, as he was passing that her hands were idle and that she was looking at him intently. She evidently wished to say something, and Newman, perceiving it, helped her to begin.
“You are English?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, please,” she answered, quickly and softly; “I was born in Wiltshire.”
“And what do you think of Paris?”
“Oh, I don’t think of Paris, sir,” she said in the same tone. “It is so long since I have been here.”
“Ah, you have been here very long?”
“It is more than forty years, sir. I came over with Lady Emmeline.”
“You mean with old Madame de Bellegarde?”
“Yes, sir. I came with her when she was married. I was my lady’s own woman.”
“And you have been with her ever since?”