heard a knocking on her wall; it was Madame Blaise’s signal. Lilia looked haggard. She opened the intervening door and went in to Madame Blaise. Madame Blaise addressed her in a society voice,
‘Liliali, what have you been doing? Come and arrange my hair for me.’ Madame Blaise seated herself before the wooden table on which was a large square mirror in a silver frame, brought from her house in Basel. She had spread out her toilet articles, which were to match in heavy silver. She handed the brush to Lilia, saying:
‘Hair first; and then we can try another make-up.’
Madame Blaise was a tall heavy woman of German type, with blue eyes and white hair. Mrs Trollope set to work. It was a long job. They tried the thick straight hair this way and that. In the meantime Doctor Blaise, a brisk, elderly but dark-haired man with an amused smile, kept coming in through the door leading to his double room at the corner of the building which was kept for him on his weekends. The Blaises had a villa on the other side of Switzerland, four hours away by train, where Dr Blaise had his practice; but he was so well-known that he visited patients here too. Doctor Blaise teased the two beauties, as he called them.
At five-thirty they passed through the two doors into Mr Wilkins’s room, where they had rum, sugar, water, lime-juice and after that a vermouth chaser, Robert’s own recipe. Afterwards, Madame Blaise returned to her room, put on her outdoor clothes, and went down with them to dinner in the dining-room.
In the morning early, Robert looked in at her door and said the woman next to him was rapping on the wall again—‘The woman’s a blessed poltergeist!’—and at this very moment, Madame Blaise, hearing them, started rapping on her wall:
‘Liliali, Liliali, come and talk to me!’
Mrs Trollope sighed, groaned:
‘Oh, my heart beat all night to suffocate me and now I must talk to these women.’
‘Well, I am sure I am not going into either of them in my dressing-gown,’ said Robert leaving his door open and going back to bed with the morning newspapers, where he had begun to draw his charts and graphs of market values.
Mrs Trollope rose, brushed her hair. She wore an old-fashioned high-necked pink flannel nightgown with cuffs and collar scalloped in silk, the sort of thing she had worn as a girl in the convent. She put on her striped flannel dressing-gown and went in to see Miss Chillard.
‘Oh, dear Mrs Collop, I had such a wretched night without sleep, but I would not call you, as that man is not very responsive. I wonder if you would mind putting out my tea things? I cannot bear the tea they send up to me.’
‘I sympathize, their tea is awful. I have got into the habit of going down and getting my own hot water. But Madame Bonnard takes it personally and says I must send for the servants, that is what they are here for. But if you like I shall go down just the same and get you some really hot water.’
‘Oh, how very kind, but I think I shall wait for the girl, the servant. Would you mind finding me the shetland bed-jacket? I am afraid I am a little décolleté in this nightgown and the doctor is coming.’
The same thing occurred. While Mrs Trollope was going through the brown valise, though she carefully followed directions she felt she was being watched. She thought again there must be money in the valises. She flushed.
‘Oh, thank you very much, thank you so much. I am afraid it does not really help.’
‘Don’t you think you should get some fresh air? It’s a lovely morning.’
‘With my trouble, I can never trust to the air. Perhaps, later on. I have friends in Vevey; they adore me and they may come to take me out. But I am so weak—Mrs Scallop—and I cannot eat anything. I got up last night, fell on the floor from weakness and spent the night on the floor. I am dirty on one side but I am not strong enough to wash.’
Mrs Trollope offered to wash her, gave her advice. Miss Chillard could
‘Liliali, what have you been doing? Come and arrange my hair for me.’ Madame Blaise seated herself before the wooden table on which was a large square mirror in a silver frame, brought from her house in Basel. She had spread out her toilet articles, which were to match in heavy silver. She handed the brush to Lilia, saying:
‘Hair first; and then we can try another make-up.’
Madame Blaise was a tall heavy woman of German type, with blue eyes and white hair. Mrs Trollope set to work. It was a long job. They tried the thick straight hair this way and that. In the meantime Doctor Blaise, a brisk, elderly but dark-haired man with an amused smile, kept coming in through the door leading to his double room at the corner of the building which was kept for him on his weekends. The Blaises had a villa on the other side of Switzerland, four hours away by train, where Dr Blaise had his practice; but he was so well-known that he visited patients here too. Doctor Blaise teased the two beauties, as he called them.
At five-thirty they passed through the two doors into Mr Wilkins’s room, where they had rum, sugar, water, lime-juice and after that a vermouth chaser, Robert’s own recipe. Afterwards, Madame Blaise returned to her room, put on her outdoor clothes, and went down with them to dinner in the dining-room.
In the morning early, Robert looked in at her door and said the woman next to him was rapping on the wall again—‘The woman’s a blessed poltergeist!’—and at this very moment, Madame Blaise, hearing them, started rapping on her wall:
‘Liliali, Liliali, come and talk to me!’
Mrs Trollope sighed, groaned:
‘Oh, my heart beat all night to suffocate me and now I must talk to these women.’
‘Well, I am sure I am not going into either of them in my dressing-gown,’ said Robert leaving his door open and going back to bed with the morning newspapers, where he had begun to draw his charts and graphs of market values.
Mrs Trollope rose, brushed her hair. She wore an old-fashioned high-necked pink flannel nightgown with cuffs and collar scalloped in silk, the sort of thing she had worn as a girl in the convent. She put on her striped flannel dressing-gown and went in to see Miss Chillard.
‘Oh, dear Mrs Collop, I had such a wretched night without sleep, but I would not call you, as that man is not very responsive. I wonder if you would mind putting out my tea things? I cannot bear the tea they send up to me.’
‘I sympathize, their tea is awful. I have got into the habit of going down and getting my own hot water. But Madame Bonnard takes it personally and says I must send for the servants, that is what they are here for. But if you like I shall go down just the same and get you some really hot water.’
‘Oh, how very kind, but I think I shall wait for the girl, the servant. Would you mind finding me the shetland bed-jacket? I am afraid I am a little décolleté in this nightgown and the doctor is coming.’
The same thing occurred. While Mrs Trollope was going through the brown valise, though she carefully followed directions she felt she was being watched. She thought again there must be money in the valises. She flushed.
‘Oh, thank you very much, thank you so much. I am afraid it does not really help.’
‘Don’t you think you should get some fresh air? It’s a lovely morning.’
‘With my trouble, I can never trust to the air. Perhaps, later on. I have friends in Vevey; they adore me and they may come to take me out. But I am so weak—Mrs Scallop—and I cannot eat anything. I got up last night, fell on the floor from weakness and spent the night on the floor. I am dirty on one side but I am not strong enough to wash.’
Mrs Trollope offered to wash her, gave her advice. Miss Chillard could
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