Jeanselme, whose father had recently died, leaving him a
fortune, lent her what money she needed to begin with; she took and
furnished a flat in the Avenue de l'Alma; and I--I feel quite like an
historical personage when I remember that I was her first boarder.
Others soon followed me, though, for she had friends amongst all the
peoples of the earth--English and Americans, Russians, Italians,
Austrians, even Roumanians and Servians, as well as French; and each
did what he could to help. At the end of a year she overflowed into
the flat above; then into that below; then she acquired the lease of
the entire house. She worked tremendously, she was at it early and
late, her eyes were everywhere; she set an excellent table; she
employed admirable servants; and if her prices were a bit stiff, she
gave you your money's worth, and there were no 'surprises.' It was
comfortable and quiet; the street was bright; the neighbourhood
convenient. You could dine in the common salle-a-manger if you liked,
or in your private sitting-room. And you never saw your landlady
except for purposes of business. She lived apart, in the entresol,
alone with Camille and her body-servant Jeanne. There was the 'home'
she had set out to make.
Meanwhile another sort of success was steadily thrusting itself upon
her--she certainly never went out of her way to seek it; she was much
too busy to do that.
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