The next day, my cook, Mariette Wolff, was called to the witnesses' bar. It is said that one cannot easily describe the persons one knows best, and I will therefore quote the word-sketch of Mariette made by a writer present at the trial, and the résumé of her evidence.
"Mariette looks an old peasant woman from one of Balzac's novels. She is small and round. Her few grey hairs are brushed back from her wrinkled forehead. Her nose is strong, and her eyes are terrible—but when she wants to, she can soften their expression. There is hardly any interval between the nose and the stubborn little chin, which reminds one of a dried-up crabapple. She gives one an extraordinary impression of strength, shrewdness, and obstinacy. One can clearly see that she will not say more than she wants, and that no power on earth can make her speak against her will. She wears an old black dress, a piece of fur, and a modest black bonnet. Quite firmly, she takes up her position at the witnesses' bar, and raising her big yellow hands, she takes the oath in a gruff voice, without a shade of hesitation or nervousness.
"Mme. Steinheil, on whose features the long hours of the trial are telling, follows the movement of her former cook with great intentness....
"In answer to the President's questions, Mariette declares that she was born in 1854, and has been a widow for over fifteen years. She first knew the Steinheils sixteen years ago.
"The President. 'Was Mme. Steinheil on good terms with your children?'
"'Yes; she knew them all.'
"M. de Valles begins to ask Mariette a number of insidious questions, but the old woman is wonderfully sharp. She has a knack of not committing herself which causes amusement and admiration.
"It is quite obvious from the outset that she will do her utmost to shield her former mistress.
"'Mme. Steinheil was a good housewife, wasn't she?' asks the President gently.
"'Yes, M. le President.'