“Then, that young woman—or rather that lady—continued: ‘Have you been with Monsieur Dalbreuse long?’
“‘About two years.’
“‘He seems like a very agreeable man, Monsieur Dalbreuse?’
“‘He isn’t cross, mademoiselle.’
“‘What does he do in Paris?’
“All those questions began to tire me, and I replied rather short:
“‘He does what he chooses, mademoiselle; it doesn’t make any difference to me.’—At that she went away. But in a minute she came skipping back, and said to me almost in my ear, as she tried to slip a gold-piece into my hand:
“‘He is a bachelor, isn’t he?’—I didn’t take the money, but I touched my hat and said:
“’ Yes, mademoiselle, he is a bachelor.’—At that she began to laugh, and went away, saying:
“‘The servant is almost as unique as the master.’—Upon my word, if she isn’t inquisitive, I don’t know who is.”