posed teachers and servants, and, so long as her broad shoulders wore the folds of that majestic drapery, even influencing madame herself—a real Indian shawl—"un véritable Cachmire," as Madame Beck said, with mixed reverence and amaze. I feel quite sure that without this "Cachmire" she would not have kept her footing in the pensionnat for two days: by virtue of it, and it only, she maintained the same a month.
But when Mrs. Sweeny knew that I was come to fill her shoes, then it was that she declared herself—then did she rise on Madame Beck in her full power—then come down on me with her concentrated weight. Madame bore this revelation and visitation so well, so stoically, that I for very shame could not support it otherwise than with composure. For one little moment Madame Beck absented herself from the room; ten minutes after, an agent of the police stood in the midst of us. Mrs. Sweeny and her effects were removed. Madame's brow had not been ruffled during the scene—her lips had not dropped one sharply accented word.
This brisk little affair of the dismissal was all settled before breakfast: order to march given, policeman called, mutineer expelled, "chambre
