And Helia asked herself in amazement: “Who is this Miss Rowrer that judges kings and would refuse them their kingdoms? Is she, then, more than a queen?”
PART III
YOUTHFUL FOLLIES
CHAPTER I
TEUFF-TEUFF! TEUFF! BRRR!
We should need words from the old, old time, worn from long use, to give an idea of Mme. de Grojean’s house in her little corner of the provinces. It was typical of its kind and just the opposite of any truly Parisian corner. The latter would have been a populous, noisy street, with odors from the markets, from horses, from tobacco. The former was a deserted street, where you could hear sparrows chattering on the housetops and breathe the fragrance of mignonette and new-mown hay.
The house of Mme. de Grojean—“grand’mère,” as Yvonne called her—formed the angle of a street on a very provincial place. It was on an open space, in the middle of which a water-jet, long since dry, marked on its basin a turning shadow like a sun-dial.
The house and garden wall formed one of the sides of the place as far as the river, which was crossed by a bridge; and, beyond, the plain stretched out.
Place and house, and trees overhanging the wall, and the street where grass grew between the paving-stones—all had the look of having always been there, of being there forever,—changeless as the hills of the horizon. But worthiest of description was the salon where grand’mère with her daughter and her granddaughter Yvonne were seated in the dim light, amid tapestries of old silk and brown furniture, with glints of brass and portraits in their frames.
Grand’mère sat squarely back in her wheeled chair, knitting a pair of stockings. The younger Mme. de Grojean was looking through a fashion-paper. Yvonne, by the half-opened blinds, glanced from time to time out on the place while continuing her work. Her little table was encumbered with ribbons and light stuffs. She was finishing a gown, with a heap of patterns around her; and her little scissors traveled slowly through the muslin.
“It’s this ribbon that gives me trouble,” Yvonne said, half aloud, as if speaking to herself. “Why, this ribbon should go on the right!” she went on, with a comical air of surprise.