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Without her nothing would go straight! She calls you back to give you a paper, a pocketbook, you had forgotten. You don't think of anything, she thinks of everything! You return five hours afterwards to breakfast, between eleven and noon. The chambermaid is at the door, or on the stairs, or on the landing, talking with somebody's valet: she runs in on hearing or seeing you.
Our chambermaid at first, at the Tzarskoe hostelry, was a lad fourteen years of age, who dusted in the most wonderfully conscientious way without being asked, like a veteran trained housekeeper. We supposed that male chambermaids were the fashion, judging from the offices which we had seen our St. Petersburg hotel "boots" perform, and we said nothing.
I would knock timidly and guiltily at her door and get no answer; I would knock again still silence. . . . I would stand near the door and listen; then the chambermaid would pass and say coldly, "Madame est partie."
"Aye? aye? aye? A good figure?" "As slim as a sapling, sir, and as upright as a dart." "On second thoughts, I am at home, Oliver. Show her in! show her in!" So far, one thing at least seemed to be clear. I had done well in sending for the chambermaid. What would Oliver's report of me have been if I had presented myself to him with my colorless cheeks and my ill-dressed hair?
When the chambermaid was out on her errands and Cissie found a moment alone with Peter, she would tweak his ear or pull his cheek and provoke him to kiss her. Indeed, it was all the hot, shuddering little laundry-room could do to contain the gay and bubbling Cissie. Peter thought and thought, resignedly now, but persistently, how this strange happiness that belonged to them both could be.
Lady Hurstmonceux paid the bill, and left half a sovereign in the hands of the chambermaid, bidding her take care of Lady Vincent's effects until they should be sent for. And when Claudia came out, equipped for her ride, they went below stairs.
She was rather pretty too. Now to have a pretty chambermaid blow one a kiss when he arrives in a fine hotel is not objectionable to most travelers. It shows such a friendly spirit, and makes one feel at home, or else fancy that he is still in the running and not so old and ugly as he had begun to believe.
This concourse of objects, strongly retraced in my memory, has charmed me a hundred time as much, or perhaps more, than ever the reality had done. Mademoiselle Merceret, Madam de Warrens' chambermaid, knew something of music; I shall never forget a little piece that M. le Maitre made me sing with her, and which her mistress listened to with great satisfaction.
She was found innocent, and her accusers, Sir Thomas and Lady Lake, were imprisoned and fined. £10,000 to the King, and £5,000 to Lady Exeter as damages for the libel. A chambermaid who was one of the witnesses, was whipped at the cart's tail for her perjury.
In a moment the chambermaid came in with a light in her hand, and asked what was the matter. "I don't know," said Maria. "Something or other has happened in Rollo's state room. Please look in and see." The chambermaid went in, and exclaimed, as she entered, "What a goose!" "Who's a goose?" said Rollo, following her. "I am," said the chambermaid, "for forgetting to screw up your light.
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