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 AN EVENING WITH RACHEL. 365 Mother (Jier mouth full) — What do you say, child ? Rachel (to the poet) — Just think ; when I played at the Theater Moliere, I had only two pairs of stockings, and every morning — Here Sarah began to gabble German, in order to pre- vent her sister from going on with her story. - Rachel — No German here ! There is nothing to be ashamed of ! I had, I say, only two pairs of stockings, and I was obliged to wash one pair every morning to wear on the stage. That pair was hanging in my room upon a clothes horse, while I wore the other pair. The Poet — And you did the housekeeping ? Rachel — I was up at six every morning, and by eight all the beds were made. Then I went to market to buy our dinner. The Poet — And did you keep a little change out of the market money ? Rachel — No. I was a very honest cook. Was I not, mother ? Mother (still stuffing) — 0, yes ; that you were indeed. Rachel — Once only I was a thief for a month. When I bought four sous' worth, I called it five, and when I paid ten sous I put it down twelve. At the end of the month I found myself mistress of three francs. The Poet (in a severe tone) — Mademoiselle, what did you do with those three francs ? Rachel was silent. Mother — She bought the works of Moliere with them. The Poet — Did you, really ? Rachel — Yes, indeed. I had already a Corneille and a Racine ; I had to have a Moli&re. I bought it with my three francs, and then I confessed my crimes. At this point of the conversation some of the company rose to go, and soon all the guests departed, except De Musset, and two or three intimate friends. The servant