Page:A chambermaid's diary.djvu/419

Rh "Oh! women?" chirped Monsieur. "In the first place, you are not women."

"I am not women? What am I, then?"

Monsieur rounded his lips,—My! what a stupid air he had!—and very tenderly, or pretending tenderness, he buzzed:

"Why! you are my wife, my little wife, my pretty little wife. There is no harm in entering the room of one's little wife, I suppose."

When Monsieur played the imbecile lover, it was because he wanted to get some money out of Madame. She, still suspicious, replied:

"Yes, there is harm."

And she minced:

"Your little wife? Your little wife? It is not so sure that I am your little wife."

"What! It is not so sure?"

"Indeed, one never knows. Men are so queer."

"I tell you, you are my little wife,—my dear, my only little wife ah!"

"And you my baby  my big baby  his little wife's only big baby  na!"

I was lacing Madame, who, with bare arms raised, was looking into the mirror. And I had a great desire to laugh. How they tired me with their "little wife" and their "big baby"! What a stupid air they both had!

After picking up skirts, stockings, and towels, and disturbing brushes, jars, and bottles. Monsieur