"The house won't change! After four years--it isn't now
that it will change!" She paused at the door and looked back at Fanny.
"Don't worry about the room, mademoiselle. She is like that--_elle a des
crises._ She cannot possibly sleep here. Keep the room for a day or two
till you find another."
"In a very few days I shall be going to England."
"Keep it a week if necessary. She will be persuaded when she is calmer.
Why did they let her come when they wrote me that she was a dying woman!
But no--_elle est comme toujours--mechante pour tout le monde._"
"You told me she thought only of Philippe."
"Ah, mademoiselle, she is like many of us! She has still her sense of
property."
CHAPTER XX
THE LAST DAY
Around the Spanish Square the first sun-awnings had been put up in the
night, awnings red and yellow, flapping in the mountain wind.
In the shops under the arches, in the market in the centre of the
Square, they were selling anemones.
"But have you any eggs?"
"No eggs this morning."
"Any butter?"
"None. There has been none these three days."
"A pot of condensed milk?"
"Mademoiselle, the train did not bring any."
"Must I eat anemones? Give me two bunches."
And round the Spanish Square the orange awnings protecting the empty
shop-fronts shuddered and flapped, like a gay hat worn unsteadily when
the stomach is empty.
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