"I know, monsieur, I know! About a cashmere shawl, I suppose, that needs mending and must be mended right away?"
"I think that that's what it is, madame."
"Then, monsieur, you must be kind enough to go to her Aunt Riflot's, Rue du Pont-aux-Choux, No. 17. That's where Rosette is just now."
"Exceedingly obliged, madame; I will go there at once."
I was not sorry to know that the finisher was supposed to send for Rosette to mend shawls; that would give me more self-assurance in my embassy.
I was driven to Rue du Pont-aux-Choux. There I did not stop to parley with the concierge; I asked for Madame Riflot, and went up at once to the fourth floor. I found a very active and wide-awake little old woman, who did not keep still an instant, but was constantly on the move from the stove to the kitchen table and cupboard while she talked with me.
"I would like to say a word to Mademoiselle Rosette, if possible, madame."
"Rosette? my niece Rosette?—Ah! mon Dieu! I believe it's burning! yes, I believe it's burning!"
And the old woman ran and turned over the tripe that was frying on the stove.