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Frenchwoman’s voice at her elbow. “Missus Darnay she was ’appy wis all ze parties, an’ Mistaire Darnay ’e paint ze preetty peektures, an’ all ze people say ’e is great artist. ’E make a lot of money too, but ’e is selfish as ze devil, zat man! Eet is not enough zat people say ’e is great artist an’ buy ’is peektures—no—’e must leave ze town an’ stop painting ze preetty peektures zat everybody likes, an ’e must come to Scotland. Mon Dieu, qu’il est bête !”
    â€œAre there any children?” Sue inquired, hoping to divert the woman’s flow of talk into a more comfortable channel.
    â€œNo, ’an zere will not be,” Ovette told her with a sly leer. “Missus Darnay she know too much.”
    Sue disliked Ovette thoroughly by this time. She was a horrible creature, disloyal and sly. Sue felt almost physically unclean after contact with her and had begun to wonder how she could possibly remain a whole week in the same house. And yet the woman was quite kind to Sue in her own way. She declared that the cheese soufflé was “ à ravir ” and that Mr. Darnay had asked for a second helping, and when dinner was over and the dishes washed up, she urged Sue to go up to bed.
    â€œYou are tired—yes—it is natural,” she said. “Me, I will put ze ’ot bottles in,” and she came upstairs to see that Sue had everything she wanted.
    The top floor of the house consisted of a tiny passage with three doors opening off it. “Zis is my room,” Ovette said, pointing to a half-open door, “an’ zat is yours. If you desire any sing—but no, you will not.”
    â€œNo, of course not,” Sue declared.
    She had no wish to see Ovette’s room, but it seemed rude to show no interest at all, so she looked in and was somewhat surprised to find that it was in a state of the utmost confusion. Clothes lay about on the bed and on the floor, and a bulging dress basket was pushed under the washing stand. Sue was all the more surprised because the untidy room did not seem to fit in with Ovette’s personality—she was meticulously neat.
    â€œI ’ave been tidying up,” explained Ovette, shutting the door hastily, “an’ when I tidy up all ze sings gets untidy first. ’Ow you say, ‘It must be worse before it is better,’” and she laughed.
    Sue did not know what to say.
    â€œCome zen,” Ovette continued. “Zis is your room. You will be comfortable ’ere, yes?”
    â€œOh yes, it’s a nice wee room,” Sue declared. It was a small but very pleasant room, with a low, sloped ceiling and a wide window seat let into the thick wall. The window looked onto the river. She could see the gleam of it in the darkness and could hear the rushing sound it made as it swept past the wall of the house.
    â€œI will wake you in ze morning,” Ovette said. “Do not rise till I come—it will be early enough, I promise—an’ if zere is noise in ze ’ouse do not trouble. Sometimes zey are vairy late. Missus Darnay will speak to you in ze morning. You will sleep sound, eh?”
    â€œVery sound,” Sue replied. She was so exhausted by Ovette’s chatter that she felt as if she could sleep for a week.

Chapter Five
    It was daylight when Sue woke, and for a moment she could not think where she was. The window was in the wrong place, and the ceiling had come closer down—then suddenly she remembered all that had happened. The sun had risen and was shining in at the window and Sue realized that it must be late—why had not Ovette wakened her? It was most annoying, for there was a great deal to be done before breakfast. She rose and flung on her clothes, but in spite of her desperate haste, she could not help glancing out of the window, for it had been dark the night before and she had not seen the view.
    Her