Poor Louise was greatly distressed.
“Madame your mother,” she said to Ernestine, “will not let me wait on her, or even go into her room. I am afraid that I have displeased her, mademoiselle; perhaps she does not like to have in her house a girl whose parents are not known.”
Ernestine tried to comfort her, saying:
“You are wrong. Why should you think that mamma has anything against you? No, it is this trouble of hers, it’s her nerves that make her depressed and irritable. Why, she even pushes me away now when I kiss her, and she doesn’t kiss me; that makes me unhappy too, but I am sure that mamma still loves me.”
As she spoke, the sweet child shed tears, and Louise mingled hers with them, for she could think of no other consolation to give her.
Madame de Noirmont made up her mind at last to leave her room, and she went down to the salon. The first time that Louise saw her, she longed to ask about her health, but she dared not; her mistress’s eyes seemed to avoid hers, and she did not display her former kindliness to her. For the merest trifle, Madame de Noirmont lost patience, scolded and became angry; sometimes she gave Louise ten contradictory orders in the same minute. The poor girl lost her head, was bewildered, did not know what to do, while Ernestine gazed at her mother with a surprised and grieved expression, when she saw her treat her protégée so harshly.
Sometimes, however, a violent change seemed to take place in that strange creature; after speaking sharply and severely to Louise, Madame de Noirmont, remarking the poor girl’s heartbroken expression, would suddenly change her tone; her eyes would fill with tears and follow Louise’s every movement; then she would call her in a gentle, affectionate, even tender voice, and the girl would return instantly, joyous and eager; but her mistress’s face would already have resumed its stern expression, and she would motion her away, muttering curtly:
“What do you want? I didn’t call you.”
Several weeks passed in this way. One morning, Madame de Noirmont, who seemed even more thoughtful than usual, said to her daughter when she came to kiss her:
“Really, I don’t propose to keep your maid; the girl is good for nothing; we must dismiss her. We will pay her two or three months’ wages more than is due her. Tell her, and advise her to return to her village; I think that she made a great mistake in coming to Paris to seek employment. Do not try to change my decision, it would do no good.”