I feel quite sure that without this "cachemire" she would not have kept her footing in the pensionnat for two days: by virtue of it, and it only, she maintained the same a month.
But when Mrs.Sweeny knew that I was come to fill her shoes, then it was that she declared herself--then did she rise on Madame Beck in her full power--then come down on me with her concentrated weight.

Madame bore this revelation and visitation so well, so stoically, that I for very shame could not support it otherwise than with composure.

For one little moment Madame Beck absented herself from the room; ten minutes after, an agent of the police stood in the midst of us.

Mrs.Sweeny and her effects were removed.

Madame's brow had not been ruffled during the scene--her lips had not dropped one sharply-accented word.
This brisk little affair of the dismissal was all settled before breakfast: order to march given, policeman called, mutineer expelled; "chambre d'enfans" fumigated and cleansed, windows thrown open, and every trace of the accomplished Mrs.Sweeny--even to the fine essence and spiritual fragrance which gave token so subtle and so fatal of the head and front of her offending--was annihilated from the Rue Fossette: all this, I say, was done between the moment of Madame Beck's issuing like Aurora from her chamber, and that in which she coolly sat down to pour out her first cup of coffee.
About noon, I was summoned to dress Madame.