an act as that of discharging an employee. Yet, Mimi feared with the unreasoning fear of the unknown, the unfortellable, the indefinite. Hastily she went over in her mind the events of the past few months. The mistakes she had made had not seemed to her so terrible at the time. Had she offended some customer of wealth, of power? She could think of none who might have complained. Suppose, she reflected wretchedly, I should be discharged just when I am beginning to get on my feet, to see clear sailing ahead? But that’s silly, she sought to comfort herself, I’ve done nothing so terrible that I need get scared like a baby in the dark. All this ran through her head as she made her way to Madame Francine’s office.
“You’ve been with me how many years?” the imposing creature asked Mimi.
“Six years—next spring.”
“I hear you’ve made a number of interesting new designs since you’ve been a fitter?”
“I don’t know how much they are worth—but I have done one or two things—” Mimi answered, somewhat embarrassed. This was reassuring. At any rate, whatever came out of the interview, she wasn’t to lose her job, not immediately, anyhow.
“Ah—modest, eh? Well, I like that in you—swelled heads don’t go very far with me. Oh, excuse me! Sit down, won’t you?”
Mimi sat. The request was more a demand. She poised on the edge of the blue and gold chair as though she was not at all sure it would sustain her weight. Must learn something about furniture, she resolved. This room’s Louis XIV , I think, she thought to herself, as she gazed around the room with quick glances while waiting for Madame Francine to continue.