Part 7

The sun disappears behind Esterel, outlining the dark, rugged mountain against the sunset sky. The clear blue sea, as calm as a mill-pond, stretches out as far as the horizon, where it blends with the sky; and the fleet, anchored in the middle of the bay, looks like a herd of enormous beasts, motionless on the water, apocalyptic animals, armored and hump-backed, their frail masts looking like feathers, and with eyes which light up when evening approaches.

The two young women, leaning back under the heavy robes, look out lazily over the blue expanse of water. At last one of them says:

“How delightful the evenings are! How good everything seems! Don't you think so, Margot?”

“Yes, it is good. But there is always something lacking.”

“What is lacking? I feel perfectly happy. I don't need anything else.”

“Yes, you do. You are not thinking of it. No matter how contented we may be, physically, we always long for something more--for the heart.”

The other asked with a smile:

“A little love?”

“Yes.”

They stopped talking, their eyes fastened on the distant horizon, then the one called Marguerite murmured: “Life without that seems to me unbearable. I need to be loved, if only by a dog. But we are all alike, no matter what you may say, Simone.”

“Not at all, my dear. I had rather not be loved at all than to be loved by the first comer. Do you think, for instance, that it would be pleasant to be loved by--by--”

She was thinking by whom she might possibly be loved, glancing across the wide landscape. Her eyes, after traveling around the horizon, fell on the two bright buttons which were shining on the back of the coachman's livery, and she continued, laughing: “by my coachman?”

Madame Margot barely smiled, and said in a low tone of voice:

“I assure you that it is very amusing to be loved by a servant. It has happened to me two or three times. They roll their eyes in such a funny manner--it's enough to make you die laughing! Naturally, the more in love they are, the more severe one must be with them, and then, some day, for some reason, you dismiss them, because, if anyone should notice it, you would appear so ridiculous.”

Madame Simone was listening, staring straight ahead of her, then she remarked:

“No, I'm afraid that my footman's heart would not satisfy me. Tell me how you noticed that they loved you.”

“I noticed it the same way that I do with other men--when they get stupid.”

“The others don't seem stupid to me, when they love me.”

“They are idiots, my dear, unable to talk, to answer, to understand anything.”

“But how did you feel when you were loved by a servant? Were you--moved--flattered?”

“Moved? no, flattered--yes a little. One is always flattered to be loved by a man, no matter who he may be.”

“Oh, Margot!”

“Yes, indeed, my dear! For instance, I will tell you of a peculiar incident which happened to me. You will see how curious and complex our emotions are, in such cases.

“About four years ago I happened to be without a maid. I had tried five or six, one right after the other, and I was about ready to give up in despair, when I saw an advertisement in a newspaper of a young girl knowing how to cook, embroider, dress hair, who was looking for a position and who could furnish the best of references. Besides all these accomplishments, she could speak English.

“I wrote to the given address, and the next day the person in question presented herself. She was tall, slender, pale, shy-looking. She had beautiful black eyes and a charming complexion; she pleased me immediately. I asked for her certificates; she gave me one in English, for she came, as she said, from Lady Rymwell's, where she had been for ten years.

“The certificate showed that the young girl had left of her own free will, in order to return to France, and the only thing which they had had to find fault in her during her long period of service was a little French coquettishness.

“This prudish English phrase even made me smile, and I immediately engaged this maid.

“She came to me the same day. Her name was Rose.