to describe something base and ignoble, cry
out in our presence, with a disgust that casts
us so violently outside the pale of humanity: «« He
has the soul of a domestic; that is the sentiment of
a domestic." Then what do you expect us to
become in these hells? Do these mistresses really
imagine that I should not like to wear fine dresses,
ride in fine carriages, have a gay time with lovers,
and have servants of my own? They talk to us of
devotion, of honesty, of fidelity. Why, but it
would choke you to death, my little chippies!
Once, in the Rue Cambon . . . how many of these places I have had! . . . the masters were marrying their daughter. They gave a grand reception in the evening, at which the wedding- presents were exhibited,enough of them to fill a furniture-van. By way of jest I asked Baptiste, the valet de chambre:
"Well, Baptiste, and you? What is your present?"
"My present?" exclaimed Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yes, tell me, what is it?"
"A can of petroleum lighted under their bed. That is my present."
It was a smart answer. Moreover, this Baptiste was an astonishing man in politics.
"And yours, Célestine?" he asked, in his turn.
