This brisk little affair of the dismissal was all settled before breakfast: order to march given, policeman called, mutineer expelled; chambre d’enfans fumigated and cleansed, windows thrown open, and every trace of the accomplished Mrs. Sweeny⁠—even to the fine essence and spiritual fragrance which gave token so subtle and so fatal of the head and front of her offending⁠—was annihilated from the Rue Fossette : all this, I say, was done between the moment of Madame Beck’s issuing like Aurora from her chamber, and that in which she coolly sat down to pour out her first cup of coffee.

About noon, I was summoned to dress Madame. (It appeared my place was to be a hybrid between gouvernante and lady’s-maid.) Till noon, she haunted the house in her wrapping-gown, shawl, and soundless slippers. How would the lady-chief of an English school approve this custom?