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Sophie was sitting in her little room.

She felt very tired. It had been a hard day; so had yesterday, so had the day before. Every day was a hard day, and she wasn't so young as she had been. Two years more and she'd be fifty. Every day had been a hard day ever since she could remember.

From down the corridor she could hear Madame and her husband talking. Madame was angry, it seemed. She was often angry with her husband.

The ringing of the bell made Sophie jump. She got up and went out into the corridor. The bell rang again. Madame did not like to wait.

"At last, Sophie. I thought you were never coming." Sophie said nothing. There was nothing to say. Madame was standing in front of the open wardrobe. Several dresses hung over her arm, and there were more of them lying on the bed.

"Tomorrow, Sophie," she said excitedly, "we start for Rome. Tomorrow morning. We must pack now." "For how long, Madame?" "Well, I don't know. Two or three weeks." "We had better take the large suitcase, then, Madame; I shall go and bring it."

"I'll help you to pack, Sophie," said Madame, when the maid came back with the heavy suitcase. She hated having old women near her. But Sophie did her work so well.

Sophie was packing. She felt very bad. "A whole day in bed," she thought, "in a large comfortable bed, like Madame's. To sleep, to rest and not to think about Madame and what you have to do for her."

"His latest game." Madame was saying about her husband, "is to tell me he hasn't got any money. 'I can't buy any new clothes', he says," She looked out of the window. "Besides," she went on, "there's his old father. 'You must be proud of having a poet for a husband,' he says. It's all I can do not to laugh in his face."

She laughed. "But my good Sophie, what are you thinking of? Why are you packing that horrible old green dress?"

Sophie carried the dress back to the wardrobe without saying anything.

"Why did the woman choose this night to look so terribly ill?" thought Madame. "She has a yellow face and blue teeth. It's too horrible. Better send her to bed. But after all, the work has to be done. What can I do about it?" She felt sorry for herself.

"Life is terrible," she thought and sat down heavily on the bed.

"Yellow face and blue teeth! Really, it is too unpleasant." The sight of her was making Madame feel ill.

"Life is terrible," Madame repeated. She could send the woman to bed. But she would never be able to finish her packing herself. And it was so important to leave for Rome tomorrow morning. She had told the husband she would go and, he had only laughed.

"Sophie," she said, "look on my dressing-table. You'll find a box of rouge there. Put a little on your cheeks. And there's some lipstick there too.

She kept her eyes shut while Sophie got up and walked over to the dressing-table and stood there. Oh, such a long time... At last she came slowly back and went on with the packing. Madame opened her eyes. Oh, that was better, much better.

"Thank you, Sophie. You look much less tired now." She got up. "And now we must pack quickly."