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“The certificate showed that the young girl had left of her own free will, in order to return to France, and the only thing which they had had to find fault in her during her long period of service was a little French coquettishness.
“This prudish English phrase even made me smile, and I immediately engaged this maid.
“She came to me the same day. Her name was Rose.
“At the end of a month I would have been helpless without her. She was a treasure, a pearl, a phenomenon.
“She could dress my hair with infinite taste; she could trim a hat better than most milliners, and she could even make my dresses.
“I was astonished at her accomplishments. I had never before been waited on in such a manner.
“She dressed me rapidly and with a surprisingly light touch. I never felt her fingers on my skin, and nothing is so disagreeable to me as contact with a servant's hand. I soon became excessively lazy; it was so pleasant to be dressed from head to foot, and from lingerie to gloves, by this tall, timid girl, always blushing a little, and never saying a word. After my bath she would rub and massage me while I dozed a little on my couch; I almost considered her more of a friend than a servant.
“One morning the janitor asked, mysteriously, to speak to me. I was surprised, and told him to come in. He was a good, faithful man, an old soldier, one of my husband's former orderlies.
“He seemed to be embarrassed by what he had to say to me. At last he managed to mumble:
“'Madame, the superintendent of police is downstairs.'
“I asked quickly:
“'What does he wish?'
“'He wishes to search the house.'
“Of course the police are useful, but I hate them. I do not think that it is a noble profession. I answered, angered and hurt:
“'Why this search? For what reason? He shall not come in.'
“The janitor continued:
“'He says that there is a criminal hidden in the house.'
“This time I was frightened and I told him to bring the inspector to me, so that I might get some explanation. He was a man with good manners and decorated with the Legion of Honor. He begged my pardon for disturbing me, and then informed me that I had, among my domestics, a convict.
“I was shocked; and I answered that I could guarantee every servant in the house, and I began to enumerate them.
“'The janitor, Pierre Courtin, an old soldier.'
“'It's not he.'
“'A stable-boy, son of farmers whom I know, and a groom whom you have just seen.'
“'It's not he.'
“'Then, monsieur, you see that you must be mistaken.'
“'Excuse me, madame, but I am positive that I am not making a mistake.
“As the conviction of a notable criminal is at stake, would you be so kind as to send for all your servants?”
“At first I refused, but I finally gave in, and sent downstairs for everybody, men and women.
“The inspector glanced at them and then declared:
“'This isn't all.'
“'Excuse me, monsieur, there is no one left but my maid, a young girl whom you could not possibly mistake for a convict.'
“He asked:
“'May I also see her?'
“'Certainly.'
“I rang for Rose, who immediately appeared. She had hardly entered the room, when the inspector made a motion, and two men whom I had not seen, hidden behind the door, sprang forward, seized her and tied her hands behind her back.
“I cried out in anger and tried to rush forward to defend her. The inspector stopped me:
“'This girl, madame, is a man whose name is Jean Nicolas Lecapet, condemned to death in 1879 for assaulting a woman and injuring her so that death resulted. His sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life. He escaped four months ago. We have been looking for him ever since.'
“I was terrified, bewildered. I did not believe him. The commissioner continued, laughing:
“'I can prove it to you. His right arm is tattooed.'
“'The sleeve was rolled up. It was true. The inspector added, with bad taste:
“'You can trust us for the other proofs.'
“And they led my maid away!
“Well, would you believe me, the thing that moved me most was not anger at having thus been played upon, deceived and made ridiculous, it was not the shame of having thus been dressed and undressed, handled and touched by this man—but a deep humiliation—a woman's humiliation. Do you understand?”
“I am afraid I don't.”
“Just think—this man had been condemned for—for assaulting a woman. Well! I thought of the one whom he had assaulted—and—and I felt humiliated—There! Do you understand now?”
Madame Margot did not answer. She was looking straight ahead, her eyes fastened on the two shining buttons of the livery, with that sphinx-like smile which women sometimes have.
There was a real mystery in this affair which neither the jury, nor the president, nor the public prosecutor himself could understand.
The girl Prudent (Rosalie), servant at the Varambots', of Nantes, having become enceinte without the knowledge of her masters, had, during the night, killed and buried her child in the garden.
It was the usual story of the infanticides committed by servant girls. But there was one inexplicable circumstance about this one. When the police searched the girl Prudent's room they discovered a complete infant's outfit, made by Rosalie herself, who had spent her nights for the last three months in cutting and sewing it. The grocer from whom she had bought her candles, out of her own wages, for this long piece of work had come to testify. It came out, moreover, that the sage-femme of the district, informed by Rosalie of her condition, had given her all necessary instructions and counsel in case the event should happen at a time when it might not be possible to get help. She had also procured a place at Poissy for the girl Prudent, who foresaw that her present employers would discharge her, for the Varambot couple did not trifle with morality.
There were present at the trial both the man and the woman, a middle-class pair from the provinces, living on their income. They were so exasperated against this girl, who had sullied their house, that they would have liked to see her guillotined on the spot without a trial. The spiteful depositions they made against her became accusations in their mouths.
