Rose was sitting in her little parlor giving Charley his morning bath;
the water was dripping from his polished limbs, and he was laughing and
splashing about with the nude grace of a young sea-god; now catching his
breath, as his head was immersed under water; now shaking back his
dripping curls, and flashing upon you his dark bright eyes, as if life
were all sunshine, and his infant sky were cloudless.
"I sall inform you zat you can leave my maison--my house--dis morning,"
said Rose's French landlady, entering the room without a preliminary
rap. "You understand, mademoiselle--_dis morning_, I say--you are von
bad woman, mademoiselle."
Twice Rose opened her lips to speak, but the color receded from her lips
and cheeks, and she stood terror-struck and speechless.
"Zat is all ver' well," said madame, quite accustomed to see her
country-women strike an attitude. "Zat is all ver' well; you did not
expect I sall know any ting about it, but one personne tell me zat I
know; you can go, for you are von bad woman."
"What is all this?" exclaimed Gertrude, opening the door and seeing
Rose's pallid face and madame's angry gesticulations.
"Ah, ha! she has impose on you too!" exclaimed Madame Macqué. "She von
ver' sly woman--ver' bad; she no' stay in my house long time."
"Woman!" said Gertrude, throwing her arm around Rose, "this is my
sister; every word you speak against her you speak against me. She is as
pure as that sweet child. If she leaves your house, I leave it."
"Ver' well--_trés bien_," said madame, shaking her overloaded French
head-dress; "you can go, den--von day you see I tell you de truf when I
say she von--"
"Don't repeat that again, in my hearing," said Gertrude, standing before
her with sparkling eyes.
"Speak, Rose--dear Rose!" said Gertrude, kissing her cold face, as
madame left the room. "Speak, Rose; do not let that miserable bundle of
French trumpery crush so pure and noble a heart as yours. We will go
away, Rose--you, and I, and dear little Charley. And, oh, Rose! when
could I have a better time to plead for my brother's happiness, for
yours, for my own? Put it beyond the power of any one to poison your
peace, Rose; be _indeed_ my sister."
Rose's only reply was a low shuddering sob, as she drew closer to
Gertrude.
"Just as good as new," said Miss Anne, looking complacently at herself
in the brown silk. "Anne, you should be prime minister; you have a
talent for diplomacy; femininity is too circumscribed a sphere for the
exercise of your talents. You did that well, Anne--Madame Vincent thrown
completely off the track, Rose crushed and out of your way forever; the
baby ditto. Madame Macque is very careful of her reputation in _this_
country, because she never had any in France. Ha--ha, Anne, you are a
genius--and this brown silk is a proof of it. Now, look out for presents
about this time, for your star is at its culminating point. Rose has
beauty--has she? Vincent fancied her--did he? A rose's doom is to fade
and wither--to be plucked, then trodden under foot;" and Miss Anne
laughed one of her Satanic laughs.