There is my landlady, to begin with, who spies out every detail of my
daily life; of decent birth and richer than Croesus, but inflamed with a
peevish penuriousness which no amount of plain speaking on my part will
correct. Never a day passes that she does not permit herself some
jocular observation anent my spendthrift habits. The following is an
example of our matutinal converse:
"I fear, Monsieur, you omitted to put out the light in a certain place
last night. It was burning when I returned home."
"Certainly not, Madame. I have been nicely brought up. I never visit
places at night. You ought to be familiar with my habits after all this
time."
"True. Then it must have been some one else. Ah, these electricians'
bills!"
Or this:
"Monsieur, Monsieur! The English Consul called yesterday with his little
dog at about five o'clock. He waited in your room, but you never came
back."
"Five o'clock? I was at the baths."
"I have heard of that establishment. What do they charge for a hot
bath?"
"Three francs----"
"Bon Dieu!"
"--if you take an abonnement. Otherwise, it may well be more."
"And so you go there. Why then--why must you also wash in the morning
and splash water on my floor? It may have to be polished after your
departure. Would you mind asking the Consul, by the way, not to sit on
the bed? It weakens the springs."
Or this:
"Might I beg you, Monsieur, to tread more lightly on the carpet in your
room? I bought it only nine years ago, and it already shows signs of
wear.
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