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 that the girl Jeanne Le Godec has been in my service for thirteen months, and that I have no cause of complaint against her, on the score of work, behavior, and honesty.' Yes, it is always the same thing. Recommendations that say nothing, that prove nothing. They give one no information. Where can one write to this lady?"

"She is dead."

"She is dead. To be sure, evidently she is dead. So you have a recommendation, and the very person who gave it to you is dead. You will confess that has a somewhat doubtful look."

All this was said with a very humiliating expression of suspicion, and in a tone of gross irony. She took another recommendation.

"And this person? She is dead, too, no doubt?"

"No, Madame. Mme. Robert is in Algeria with her husband, who is a colonel."

"In Algeria!" exclaimed the lady. "Naturally. How do you expect anybody to write to Algeria? Some are dead, others are in Algeria. The idea of seeking information in Algeria! This is all very extraordinary."

"But I have others, Madame," implored the unfortunate Jeanne Le Godec. "Madame can see for herself. Madame can inform herself."

"Yes, yes! I see you have many others. I see that you have been in many places,—much too