"
"Yes, yes, I know that; but when did she fall asleep?"
"About four o'clock in the morning. I was glad, because she is very
beautiful when she has much sleep."
"And you--does not sleep concern you in this matter of madame?"
"For me," she said, looking away, "it is no matter. I have no beauty.
Besides, I am madame's servant,"--she blushed slightly at this,"--and she
is generous with money."
"Yes, and you like money so much?"
Her eyes flashed a little defiantly as she looked me in the face. "It is
everything to me."
She paused as if to see the effect upon me, or to get an artificial (I
knew it was artificial) strength to go on, then she added: "I love money.
I work for it; I would bear all for it--all that a woman could bear. I--"
But here she paused again, and, though the eyes still flashed, the lips
quivered. Hers was not the face of cupidity. It was sensitive, yet firm,
as with some purpose deep as her nature was by creation and experience,
and always deepening that nature. I suddenly got the conviction that this
girl had a sorrow of some kind in her life, and that this unreal
affection for money was connected with it.
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