The Diary of a Chambermaid by Octave Mirbeau Read Free Book Online Page A

can’t stand up for himself. Naturally, they never give away a cent except occasionally to the church, for they’re very religious. As for the poor, they could be dying of hunger on the very steps of The Priory, and they wouldn’t as much as open the door to them.
    ‘I really believe,’ said the draper’s wife, ‘that if they could steal money from the poor they would do it with pleasure, without turning a hair.’
    And, as a monstrous example of their meanness, she added: ‘Look, all of us round here who earn our living the hard way, when we give bread for the poor we buy the very best, it’s just common decency, a question of self-respect. But that lot, the dirty misers … what d’you think they give? Why, not even white bread, my dear young lady, but just the ordinary black stuff the peasants eat. Isn’t it scandalous … as rich as they are? Only the other day, Madame Paumier, the cooper’s wife, heard Madame Lanlaire say to the vicar, who was giving her a scolding for being so stingy, “But what’s wrong, Father? It’s quite good enough for people like them!” ’
    Still, you ought to be fair, even to your employers, and though there may be only one opinion as regards the mistress, no one seems to have any grudge against the master. They don’t dislike him. Everyone agrees that he’s not stuck-up, and would treat people generously and do a lot of good if he was allowed to. The trouble is, he isn’t. In his own house the master counts for nothing—less even than the servants, badly treated as they are, less than the cat, which does just as it likes. For the sake of a little peace and quiet, he’s gradually given up all his authority, all his masculine pride, and it’s Madame who controls, rules, organizes, administers everything. She’s in charge of the stables, the poultry, the garden, the cellar … and she’s always got something to complain about. Nothing ever goes right for her, and she’s forever making out that she’s been robbed. And she’s as sharp as a knife … you’d never believe it! No one can play any tricks on her, for she’s up to them all. It’s she who pays the bills, draws the dividends, collects the rent and does all the business. She’s as smart as an old book-keeper, as unscrupulous as a bum bailiff, and as tightfisted as a moneylender. It’s unbelievable! Naturally, it’s she who holds the purse strings, and she never lets go of them … except to put away some more money. She leaves the master without a penny to his name, so that he’s lucky if he has enough to buy his tobacco with, poor devil! With all that money, he’s as hard-up as the poorest beggar in the neighbourhood. Yet he never jibs, never … he obeys her like one of the servants. Oh, it’s funny to see him sometimes, looking all worried like a well-trained dog. If Madame happens to be out, and some shopkeeper calls with his account, or some broken-down beggar, or a messenger expects a tip, you just ought to see him! It would really make you laugh. He feels in his pocket, scratches his head, blushes, starts apologizing and then with the most pitiful expression says: ‘Look, I am afraid I haven’t any change … nothing but 1000 franc notes. Do you happen to have change for 1000 francs? No? Then I’m afraid you’ll have to call again.’
    A thousand francs indeed … why, he never has as much as a five-franc piece! If he only wants to write a letter, he has to go to Madame for the notepaper, because she keeps it locked up in a drawer and only allows him a sheet at a time, and grumbles about that. ‘Heavens, you do get through some notepaper. Whatever can you be writing about to need so much?’
    The only thing people reproach him for, the one thing they simply cannot understand, is his shameful weakness, allowing such a shrew to lead him by the nose. For everybody knows about it, you see … even if she wasn’t always shouting it from the housetops … Of course, they don’t mean anything to one