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Updated: June 3, 2025


"I cannot transcend my orders by doing any thing of the kind," she said quietly, yet resolutely, as she pursued her avocation, that of dusting with a bunch of colored plumes the delicate ornaments of the étagère carefully one by one. "Your authority! Who has dared to delegate to you what has no existence as far as I am concerned?" I asked indignantly. "I will go instantly."

And she raised her head, looking round as if to seek the cause of that which made her suffer. An April ray was dancing on the china of the étagère; the fire burned; beneath her slippers she felt the softness of the carpet; the day was bright, the air warm, and she heard her child shouting with laughter.

At first I saw nothing, and everything was perfectly quiet; but in a moment I noticed that an étagère, which had always stood at the head of the stairs, was tipped forward against the banisters, and at the same time I heard Mr. Maillot moving about in his room.

The living-room had already produced an extremely pleasant impression on Pelle, with its oak-grained dining-room suite and its horse-hair sofa. But here was a red plush suite, an octagonal table of walnut wood, with a black inlaid border and twisted wooden feet, and an etagere full of knick-knacks and pieces of china; mostly droll, impudent little things.

The living-room had already produced an extremely pleasant impression on Pelle, with its oak-grained dining-room suite and its horse-hair sofa. But here was a red plush suite, an octagonal table of walnut wood, with a black inlaid border and twisted wooden feet, and an etagere full of knick-knacks and pieces of china; mostly droll, impudent little things.

The very idea of a sane man creeping through that dark hall and up those dark stairs, and plunging into he knew not what!" She eyed me severely. "But I did know," I protested meekly. "It was the étagère" There was a solemn rebuke in the slow shaking of her head. "A man swears so," she sighed, "when he does anything awkward, like that." I remained discreetly silent.

The quiet figure, clad in sober grey, and wearing a muslin cap whose crimped ruffle enclosed in a snowy frame the benevolent wrinkled countenance, came forward, knitting in hand, spectacles on her nose, and for the first time the visitor became aware of her presence. "Please lower the curtain yonder beside the étagère, the sun shines hot upon Mr. Laurance's brow.

Standing midway upon this landing, I had a view not only of the entire spacious hall, but could also see the top of the étagère tipped forward at the head of the stairs. It had evidently been a receptacle for old magazines and newspapers, all of which, that had not been checked by the balusters, now lay in a confused heap upon the floor just as they slid from the shelves.

That 'etagere' was Sidonie's very soul, and her thoughts, always commonplace, petty, vain, and empty, resembled those gewgaws. Yes, in very truth, if Risler, while he held her in his grasp last night, had in his frenzy broken that fragile little head, a whole world of 'etagere' ornaments would have come from it in place of a brain.

The one thing above all others in that room that recalled Sidonie was an 'etagere' covered with childish toys, petty, trivial knickknacks, microscopic fans, dolls' tea-sets, gilded shoes, little shepherds and shepherdesses facing one another, exchanging cold, gleaming, porcelain glances.

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