For half
           a century
         the housewives
           of Pont-l'Eveque
        had envied Madame Aubain
               her servant Felicite.

  For a hundred
    francs a year,
           she cooked
            and did the housework,
         washed,
           ironed,
         mended,
           harnessed the horse,
         fattened the poultry,
           made the butter
            and remained faithful
                   to her mistress
          --although the latter
            was by no
                  means an agreeable person.

    Madame Aubain
        had married a comely youth
         without any money,
           who died
               in the beginning of 1809,
         leaving her
               with two young children
                   and a number of debts.

    She sold all her property
          excepting the farm of Toucques
               and the farm of Geffosses,
           the income
             of which barely
                  amounted to 5,000 francs;
        then she left
               her house in Saint-Melaine,
           and moved
               into a less pretentious one
              which had belonged
                   to her ancestors and stood
                 back of the market-place.

    This house,
           with its slate-covered roof,
         was built
               between a passage-way
                   and a narrow street
             that led to the river.

    The interior
        was so unevenly graded
         that it caused
               people to stumble.

    A narrow hall
          separated the kitchen
               from the parlour,
           where Madame Aubain
            sat all day
                   in a straw armchair
                 near the window.

    Eight mahogany chairs
        stood in a row
               against the white wainscoting.

    An old piano,
           standing beneath a barometer,
         was covered
               with a pyramid
                   of old books and boxes.

    On either side
           of the yellow marble mantelpiece,
         in Louis XV.

    style,
           stood a tapestry armchair.

    The clock
          represented a temple of Vesta;
        and the whole room
              smelled musty,
           as it
            was on a lower
                   level than the garden.

    On the first floor
        was Madame's bed-chamber,
           a large room
              papered in a flowered
                   design and containing the portrait
                       of Monsieur
                      dressed in the costume
                           of a dandy.

    It communicated
           with a smaller room,
         in which
            there were two little cribs,
         without any mattresses.

    Next,
           came the parlour
         (always closed),
            filled with furniture
              covered with sheets.

    Then a hall,
           which led to the study,
         where books and papers
            were piled
                   on the shelves
                       of a book-case
             that enclosed three quarters
                   of the big black desk.

    Two panels
        were entirely
              hidden under pen-and-ink sketches,
           Gouache landscapes
               and Audran engravings,
         relics of better times
            and vanished luxury.

    On the second floor,
           a garret-window
              lighted Felicite's room,
         which looked
               out upon the meadows.

    She arose at daybreak,
           in order to attend mass,
         and she worked without interruption
             until night;
        then,
           when dinner was over,
         the dishes
              cleared away
                   and the door securely locked,
           she would bury the log
               under the ashes
              and fall asleep
                   in front of the hearth
                 with a rosary
                   in her hand.

    Nobody could bargain
         with greater obstinacy,
           and as for cleanliness,
         the lustre
               on her brass sauce-pans
            was the envy
                  and despair of other servants.

    She was most economical,
           and when
             she ate
               she would gather
                   up crumbs
                       with the tip
                           of her finger,
         so that nothing
            should be
                  wasted of
                       the loaf of bread
                      weighing twelve pounds
              which was
                 baked especially for her
                and lasted three weeks.

    Summer and winter
         she wore a dimity kerchief
              fastened in the back
                   with a pin,
           a cap
              which concealed her hair,
         a red skirt,
           grey stockings,
         and an apron
               with a bib
              like those worn
                   by hospital nurses.

    Her face
        was thin
               and her voice shrill.

    When she was twenty-five,
           she looked forty.