"Parbleu! I am drenched!"
"That'll dry, and it don't spot."
"Madame Chamouillet, if you please?"
"That's me. Have you got something you want washed?"
"No, madame; I am sufficiently washed now! I would like to speak with Mademoiselle Rosette, your niece."
Madame Chamouillet had returned to her washing; she paid much more attention to her linen than to what I said to her.
"I come, madame, on the part of Madame Berlingot, on Rue——"
"All right, monsieur, all right!—How can anyone soil linen like that! Look, monsieur, I leave it to you!"
And she took from her tub a shirt, which she started to spread out for my inspection. I evaded that demonstration; but, as she put the shirt back in the tub, she threw a wet stocking in my face. I tried to take it calmly; I wiped my face and continued:
"Will you kindly tell me where Mademoiselle Rosette is?"