There is nothing chic except the costumes of the Zouaves. But one cannot
deny that it is odd. When Mam'zelle was away this afternoon in the tower
Monsieur Helmuth--"
"Who is that?"
"The Monsieur who accompanies the omnibus to the station. Monsieur
Helmuth was polite enough to escort me through the village. Mon Dieu,
Mam'zelle, I said to myself, 'Anything might occur here.'"
"Anything! What do you mean?"
But Suzanne did not seem to know. She only made her figure look more
tense than ever, tucked in her round little chin, which was dimpled and
unmeaning, and said:
"Who knows, Mam'zelle? This village is dull, that is true, but it is
odd. One does not find oneself in such places every day."
Domini could not help laughing at these Delphic utterances, but she went
downstairs thoughtfully. She knew Suzanne's practical spirit. Till now
the maid had never shown any capacity of imagination. Beni-Mora was
certainly beginning to mould her nature into a slightly different shape.
And Domini seemed to see an Eastern potter at work, squatting in the sun
and with long and delicate fingers changing the outline of the statuette
of a woman, modifying a curve here, an angle there, till the clay began
to show another woman, but with, as it were, the shadow of the former
one lurking behind the new personality.
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