"No; it's a private mansion."
"Ah! but wait a minute! What about my horse—this poor Bourriquet? I don't want to leave him, you know."
"You will not have to leave him; Bourriquet will be put in the stable, and you may be sure that the horses are well taken care of there."
"Do you mean it? Bourriquet will be fed? and what about me?"
"You will be, too, when you happen to be here at the hour when the household of these ladies dines."
"If this is the way one is treated in Paris, I begin to believe that you may be happy here, cousin; but, in that case, I must go and thank the masters of the house for offering to take me in."
"No, no; that is not necessary; there are no masters here, only mistresses: Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin, in whose service I am now, and her aunt—an old lady, who does whatever her niece wishes; I saw that at once."
"Oh! you are shrewd, you are, Miretta! So I needn't go and thank those ladies?"
"They excuse you. In Paris, you see, everyone is expected to keep in his own place.—But that reminds me that there is someone whom I must thank; but she is not a great lady, and I am sure that she will be very glad to see me."
"Who is it?"