The maid, in fear of Lucy, remonstrated. But her mistress prevailed.
'Do my hair as usual to-day,' she said, as soon as that stage of her toilette was reached, and she was sitting in her white wrapper before the cracked glass.
Marie stared.
'It will tire you, madame.'
'No, it won't. Mais faites vite!'
Ever since their arrival at Torre Amiata Eleanor had abandoned the various elaborate coiffures in which she had been wont to appear at the villa. She would allow nothing but the simplest and rapidest methods; and Marie had been secretly alarmed lest her hand should lose her cunning.
So that to-day she coiled, crimped, curled with a will. When she had finished, Eleanor surveyed herself and laughed.
'Ah! mais vraiment, Marie, tu es merveilleuse! What is certain is that neither that glass nor Torre Amiata is worthy of it. N'importe. One must keep up standards.'
'Certainly, madame, you look better to-day.'
'I slept. Why did I sleep? I can't imagine. After all, Torre Amiata is not such a bad place—is it Marie?'