retained certain sculptured marble mantel-pieces and ceilings, worthy
of Versailles, together with the old furniture of the widow Bidault.
The latter consisted of a curious mixture of walnut armchairs,
disjointed, and covered with tapestry; rosewood bureaus; round tables
on single pedestals, with brass railings and cracked marble tops; one
superb Boulle secretary, the value of which style had not yet been
recognized; in short, a chaos of bargains picked up by the worthy
widow,--pictures bought for the sake of the frames, china services of
a composite order; to wit, a magnificent Japanese dessert set, and all
the rest porcelains of various makes, unmatched silver plate, old
glass, fine damask, and a four-post bedstead, hung with curtains and
garnished with plumes.

Amid these curious relics, Madame Saillard always sat on a sofa of
modern mahogany, near a fireplace full of ashes and without fire, on
the mantel-shelf of which stood a clock, some antique bronzes,
candelabra with paper flowers but no candles, for the careful
housewife lighted the room with a tall tallow candle always guttering
down into the flat brass candlestick which held it. Madame Saillard's
face, despite its wrinkles, was expressive of obstinacy and severity,
narrowness of ideas, an uprightness that might be called quadrangular,
a religion without piety, straightforward, candid avarice, and the
peace of a quiet conscience. You may see in certain Flemish pictures
the wives of burgomasters cut out by nature on the same pattern and
wonderfully reproduced on canvas; but these dames wear fine robes of
velvet and precious stuffs, whereas Madame Saillard possessed no
robes, only that venerable garment called in Touraine and Picardy
"cottes," elsewhere petticoats, or skirts pleated behind and on each
side, with other skirts hanging over them. Her bust was inclosed in
what was called a "casaquin," another obsolete name for a short gown