The sitting-room was exactly like the bedroom, except that its
stencilling was bright green and that it had no bed. There was in each
room a big bunch of dahlias of gorgeous hues--offerings from Madame
Chalumeau.
Yellow Dog Papillon, who had been left with Brigit to keep her company,
lay on one of the rugs and snapped rudely at flies. It was very warm,
and the tea had proved quite undrinkable. Brigit thought that she did
not greatly care for the Chevreuil d'Or.
Then eight o'clock struck and she rose and rang for hot water. The
"maid," who was incidentally a grandmother, wore a blue skirt and a red
blouse and smiled cheerfully and toothlessly.
"Yes, yes, mademoiselle, _de l'eau chaude_. I have brought it! _Je
connais ma clientele, moi._" With a proud smile she set down a jug about
as large as a milk-jug for two coffee-drinkers, and withdrew.
Smiling to herself, Brigit dressed and then went into her sitting-room,
and opening a window looked down into the street.
It is a most important thoroughfare, this Rue d'Argentin; the Rue de la
Paix de Falaise.
Leaning out the window and looking to her left Brigit beheld the Place
St. Gervais, with its fountain, its market-place, now of course empty,
and its church steps, on which beggars sleep by day.
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