which they make very well in France, would have been acceptable.
Henrietta was furious; she was shivering with cold, her eyes smarting
with the smoke, and not at all interested in M.B.'s political career,
or Madame's servants, and said she would have been thankful to have
even a glass of vin de Chypre.

It was unfortunate, perhaps, that we had arrived during the "lessive";
that is always a most important function in France. In almost all the
big houses in the country (small ones, too) that is the way they do
their washing; once a month or once every three months, according to
the size of the establishment, the whole washing of the household is
done; all the linen: master's, servants', guests'; house is turned
out; the linen closets cleaned and aired! Every one looks busy and
energetic. It is quite a long affair--lasts three or four days. I
often went to see the performance when we made our "lessive" at the
château every month.

It always interested our English and American friends, as the washing
is never done in that way in either of their countries. It was very
convenient at our place as we had plenty of room. The "lavoir" stood
at the top of the steps leading into the kitchen gardens; there was a
large, square tank sunk in the ground, so that the women could kneel
to their work, then a little higher another of beautiful clear water,
all under cover. Just across the path there was a small house with a
blazing wood fire; in the middle an enormous tub where all the linen
was passed through wood ashes. There were four "lessiveuses"
(washerwomen), sturdy peasant women with very short skirts, sabots,
and turbans (made of blue and white checked calico) on their heads,
their strong red arms bared above the elbow. The Mère Michon, the
eldest of the four, directed everything and kept them well at work,