Shortly after Mr Monet left, the maid returned with a tray and approached the table with Meia.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Arvis." The maid curtsied and then lifted the tray closer to Meia so that she could have a good view of it. "I bring you berry almond cakes and a house recipe cappuccino. Would that be acceptable to you?"
~Mr Monet didn't even address the fire.~ When told about it, Meia had been able to see his face in the corner of her eye. He did not seem to have been surprised. At first, his expression had not changed at all. Wasn't that unusual? The man in the waistcoat was certainly a high-ranking employee of his. The fine clothes did not allow any other conclusion. Meia, at least, could not imagine that a simple servant of Mr Monet, would already be wearing better clothes than she herself normally wore. Furthermore, he also had a cross pin. What had Mr Monet said about it? Not everyone had one? So the man had to be in a high position. Nevertheless, he had not introduced himself to her by name. With a housemaid, that would be normal. People could not be expected to remember the names of every unimportant servant. But someone important not introducing himself by name? Mr Monet had said he was going to a business meeting? Certainly with that man. The fire was probably nowhere near. After all, there was nothing here. Then where could the fire be? It was a business meeting... How did Mr Monet earn his money? As administrator of Jena Northeast and governor of Blenas, the Monet family made money from tax revenues, but her father had listed quite a lot.
"Miss Arvis, would berry almond cakes and a cappuccino be to your liking? All the ingredients are grown by the Monet family themselves. But if you wish, I can bring you something else."
~True, he also said he grows wine.~ Meia now remembered that her father had also mentioned something along the lines of agriculture. That would also fit in with his knowledge of plants. Meia had the feeling that she was close to the solution. Maybe the fire was on a factory site or in a field? It was warm, after all. It was summer. Especially in the north it was certainly very dry. The fire was probably in a field and he was not surprised because a fire in a field during summer was not too uncommon. Still, it was his field and so he had to leave to discuss something about it?
"I'm going to serve you now," the maid declared, and immediately began to put her plan into action. She seemed slightly annoyed.
~What's her problem?~ So the fire was in a field in the north and that meant .... nothing really. Meia realised that this supposed knowledge did not help her at all. It was basically useless to her. If Mr Monet had not thought it necessary to inform her about the fire, it was probably not relevant to her.
Meia noticed the house maid coming to her right, warm steam in her field of vision and the smell of pastries and fresh coffee.
Mr Monet had said that she would not have to be alone for long, but she was not really alone. The two maids were still here, after all. He hadn't considered them in the least. It was somehow mean to completely ignore them like that.
The maid came to her right. During her last step, she moved the hand with the tray behind her head. Meia had not even caught on to what was going to be served to her, so she turned around to find out. But before she could inspect the tray, the maid unexpectedly raised her hand, causing the tray to rise higher as well, which forced Meia to stretch her neck, but the tray continued to rise higher. Within this sequence of events, Meia noticed at one point that the maid raised her hand on purpose and her expression made Meia immediately sit back down properly and not move again.
The maid looked incredibly intimidating. Her expression was extremely serious. She looked like someone who would quickly condemn you if you made a mistake, and her curiosity had seemingly not pleased her at all. It also seemed as if she was somehow disgusted with her. It seemed as if Meia was just a worm to her that she would like to crush. Meia could not put her finger on what gave her this impression. It was her gaze or the aura that surrounded her. It was one of these two things. In any case, just being near her triggered a feeling of social pressure in her. Meia hoped she would leave the table soon.
The maid started to serve the table. Meia waited quietly, like a well-behaved guest, and just watched the tabletop.
A plate with a fork and a piece of cake moved in front of her, and to the right a smaller plate with a cup on it. It was a cappuccino, still warm and steaming and with a fluffy foam crown that was higher than the rim of the cup. A cross had been poured into the foam. Both plates found their place on the table without a sound. Not the slightest clink could be heard. With the placing of the underplate, the handle of the cup was already aligned towards her. The maid had not had to turn her hand to do so. She had already picked up the plate from the tray so that the handle of the cup would be in the correct position. Meia had nothing else to do, so she noticed something like that. Such little things probably made the difference between a housemaid and a real maid. The housemaid always laid everything out first and then arranged the things on the table.
"Tha-thank you.", Meia thanked her with emphasis.
"Please do not thank me. We are here to serve you." The maid took a step backwards away from the table. "I apologise."
The maid curtsied again before she left altogether. Again, it was so elegant. The curtsy was striking, but in essence everything she did was so noble and skilful. Each of her hand movements seemed like part of an elaborate choreography. In a training guide for maids was certainly a picture of her. Meia had wanted to show her appreciation by thanking her. The maid also seemed to be making quite an effort, at least that would explain her demonic expression. However, the thanks was apparently inappropriate? Meia was not sure. In her whole life, she had never been asked by a servant not to thank them.
On the tray she had had another cup, which was surely meant for Mr Monet. Now it would certainly be tipped away. Such were the ways of being rich.
The maid came close to the door. Her colleague was still standing there without a task. All this time she had been standing there. Apparently the division of labour was rather one-sided in her favour. This maid did not have the same class. That was clear. Since the moment when Mr Monet was no longer present, her attitude left a lot to be desired. What is more, it seemed as if she could not manage to stand still even for a second. She was constantly fidgeting. She swayed with her arms or nudged the flower vase with her foot.
As the maid crossed the doorstep with the tray, Meia heard an annoyed sound coming from that direction. It was somewhere between a grumble and a growl.
At that moment, the fidgety woman opened her eyes and suddenly straightened up. From one moment to the next, her attitude changed completly.
But as soon as the one with the tray disappeared into the house, she collapsed in herself again, like a ball in which a hole had been poked.
A moment later she peered through the glass of the door into the hallway with half her face pressed against the glass. It seemed as if she wanted to check whether the other one was really gone. When she was sure, she took the opportunity to stretch herself out. First she stretched her arms wide, squinting her eyes and yawning. Next she circled her head to loosen her neck as well, and then she set to work on her hip flexors as well.
~Is she planning to run marathon?~
As she pulled her legs to her bottom, she noticed that Meia was watching her warm-up routine, but still did not stop. She did not seem to care at all. ~Kind of strange...~
Meia tried to ignore the maid, sat up straight again and rather took care of her little cake. Disregarding the fork, she took it in her hand. It had just been prepared. She could feel it by the temperature. The sugary dough broke into small thin pieces in her mouth and mixed with the cold juice of the berries. It tasted better than she would have expected. Mr Monet had chosen well. If she would not be so hungry, she could enjoy it more, but so the taste unfortunately remained only for a short time.
Only one and a half bites later, worrying noises came from the door. Just as Meia turned around, the fidgety one stumbled forward on her right leg, still with her left leg in her hand. She had lost her balance and was well on her way to kissing the sandstone tiles. Trying to somehow avert the fall, she quickly jerked her arms forward and grabbed the first thing she could grab, thus catching the mini-palm. The flower vase, however, proved to be of little stability and immediately began to falter. Many leaves bent. The earth flew out over the edge. Everything was about to scatter across the floor, but only just, she managed to bring things back into balance. She herself had been able to save face, even if only from damage, but for the palm tree the outcome was less pleasing. She had completely battered it within a second. It was tilted, the leaves were partially bent and had been completely torn off.
What would one do in this situation? The maid seemingly knew exactly. Directly on noticing the damage, she began the repair work. She realigned the plame in the vase, scooped the remaining soil back in and straightened all the leaves - as if by this the damage would no longer be visible. Meanwhile, every now and then she cast a worried glimpse through the window into the house. It seemed as if she was quite afraid of her colleague. Meia could understand this. She would certainly wipe the floor with her.
While Meia sipped from her cup, sceptically monitoring the finishing touches, she remembered that earlier she claimed that she wanted to go to the toilet, which she had never done. Mr Monet had gone himself, so there had simply been no need. The fidgety maid, however, had heard her plea. Meia was undecided and thought for a moment whether she should go to the toilet to avoid appearing strange, but then gave up that thought as she saw the maid trying to put the torn leaf somewhere back in the palm tree. It refused to grow back onto the tree. After a short time, she resignedly stuffed it into the side pocket of her uniform and returned to her limp posture as if nothing had happened.
Her colleague's admonition had been completely in vain. She had not learned anything from her near fall either. She only seemed relieved that she was able to cover it up successfully. There were worlds between the two of them. Meia noticed that in contrast to her colleague, this maid had two braids. Her hair was partly in the colour of her eyes too. The lower halves of the braids were... the shade was called apple green or lime green. Meia didn't know for sure. In any case, it was a bright shade of green. Upon her observation, Meia wondered whether the hair colouring was part of the uniform or more a personal way of character expression?
Was the number of braids a numbering? Did that mean that there was somewhere an even worse maid with three braids? Meia droped this thought.
While the maid dozed by the door, she calmly drank her cappuccino and ate the little cake and as she did so, her gaze went over the pool, down the hill, to the flower meadows surrounding the estate. Looking at them this way, it seemed as if they stretched all the way to the horizon. Their end could not even be discerned. It was like a swaying sea of pure colour bathed in the reddish light of the early evening sun. You would never find anything like it in nature. It did not even look like it was real. It was much more like something out of a beautiful dream.
.../ End Part
Shortly after Mr Monet left, the maid returned with a tray and approached the table with Meia.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Arvis." The maid curtsied and then lifted the tray closer to Meia so that she could have a good view of it. "I bring you berry almond cakes and a house recipe cappuccino. Would that be acceptable to you?"
~Mr Monet didn't even address the fire.~ When told about it, Meia had been able to see his face in the corner of her eye. He did not seem to have been surprised. At first, his expression had not changed at all. Wasn't that unusual? The man in the waistcoat was certainly a high-ranking employee of his. The fine clothes did not allow any other conclusion. Meia, at least, could not imagine that a simple servant of Mr Monet, would already be wearing better clothes than she herself normally wore. Furthermore, he also had a cross pin. What had Mr Monet said about it? Not everyone had one? So the man had to be in a high position. Nevertheless, he had not introduced himself to her by name. With a housemaid, that would be normal. People could not be expected to remember the names of every unimportant servant. But someone important not introducing himself by name? Mr Monet had said he was going to a business meeting? Certainly with that man. The fire was probably nowhere near. After all, there was nothing here. Then where could the fire be? It was a business meeting... How did Mr Monet earn his money? As administrator of Jena Northeast and governor of Blenas, the Monet family made money from tax revenues, but her father had listed quite a lot.
"Miss Arvis, would berry almond cakes and a cappuccino be to your liking? All the ingredients are grown by the Monet family themselves. But if you wish, I can bring you something else."
~True, he also said he grows wine.~ Meia now remembered that her father had also mentioned something along the lines of agriculture. That would also fit in with his knowledge of plants. Meia had the feeling that she was close to the solution. Maybe the fire was on a factory site or in a field? It was warm, after all. It was summer. Especially in the north it was certainly very dry. The fire was probably in a field and he was not surprised because a fire in a field during summer was not too uncommon. Still, it was his field and so he had to leave to discuss something about it?
"I'm going to serve you now," the maid declared, and immediately began to put her plan into action. She seemed slightly annoyed.
~What's her problem?~ So the fire was in a field in the north and that meant .... nothing really. Meia realised that this supposed knowledge did not help her at all. It was basically useless to her. If Mr Monet had not thought it necessary to inform her about the fire, it was probably not relevant to her.
Meia noticed the house maid coming to her right, warm steam in her field of vision and the smell of pastries and fresh coffee.
Mr Monet had said that she would not have to be alone for long, but she was not really alone. The two maids were still here, after all. He hadn't considered them in the least. It was somehow mean to completely ignore them like that.
The maid came to her right. During her last step, she moved the hand with the tray behind her head. Meia had not even caught on to what was going to be served to her, so she turned around to find out. But before she could inspect the tray, the maid unexpectedly raised her hand, causing the tray to rise higher as well, which forced Meia to stretch her neck, but the tray continued to rise higher. Within this sequence of events, Meia noticed at one point that the maid raised her hand on purpose and her expression made Meia immediately sit back down properly and not move again.
The maid looked incredibly intimidating. Her expression was extremely serious. She looked like someone who would quickly condemn you if you made a mistake, and her curiosity had seemingly not pleased her at all. It also seemed as if she was somehow disgusted with her. It seemed as if Meia was just a worm to her that she would like to crush. Meia could not put her finger on what gave her this impression. It was her gaze or the aura that surrounded her. It was one of these two things. In any case, just being near her triggered a feeling of social pressure in her. Meia hoped she would leave the table soon.
The maid started to serve the table. Meia waited quietly, like a well-behaved guest, and just watched the tabletop.
A plate with a fork and a piece of cake moved in front of her, and to the right a smaller plate with a cup on it. It was a cappuccino, still warm and steaming and with a fluffy foam crown that was higher than the rim of the cup. A cross had been poured into the foam. Both plates found their place on the table without a sound. Not the slightest clink could be heard. With the placing of the underplate, the handle of the cup was already aligned towards her. The maid had not had to turn her hand to do so. She had already picked up the plate from the tray so that the handle of the cup would be in the correct position. Meia had nothing else to do, so she noticed something like that. Such little things probably made the difference between a housemaid and a real maid. The housemaid always laid everything out first and then arranged the things on the table.
"Tha-thank you.", Meia thanked her with emphasis.
"Please do not thank me. We are here to serve you." The maid took a step backwards away from the table. "I apologise."
The maid curtsied again before she left altogether. Again, it was so elegant. The curtsy was striking, but in essence everything she did was so noble and skilful. Each of her hand movements seemed like part of an elaborate choreography. In a training guide for maids was certainly a picture of her. Meia had wanted to show her appreciation by thanking her. The maid also seemed to be making quite an effort, at least that would explain her demonic expression. However, the thanks was apparently inappropriate? Meia was not sure. In her whole life, she had never been asked by a servant not to thank them.
On the tray she had had another cup, which was surely meant for Mr Monet. Now it would certainly be tipped away. Such were the ways of being rich.
The maid came close to the door. Her colleague was still standing there without a task. All this time she had been standing there. Apparently the division of labour was rather one-sided in her favour. This maid did not have the same class. That was clear. Since the moment when Mr Monet was no longer present, her attitude left a lot to be desired. What is more, it seemed as if she could not manage to stand still even for a second. She was constantly fidgeting. She swayed with her arms or nudged the flower vase with her foot.
As the maid crossed the doorstep with the tray, Meia heard an annoyed sound coming from that direction. It was somewhere between a grumble and a growl.
At that moment, the fidgety woman opened her eyes and suddenly straightened up. From one moment to the next, her attitude changed completly.
But as soon as the one with the tray disappeared into the house, she collapsed in herself again, like a ball in which a hole had been poked.
A moment later she peered through the glass of the door into the hallway with half her face pressed against the glass. It seemed as if she wanted to check whether the other one was really gone. When she was sure, she took the opportunity to stretch herself out. First she stretched her arms wide, squinting her eyes and yawning. Next she circled her head to loosen her neck as well, and then she set to work on her hip flexors as well.
~Is she planning to run marathon?~
As she pulled her legs to her bottom, she noticed that Meia was watching her warm-up routine, but still did not stop. She did not seem to care at all. ~Kind of strange...~
Meia tried to ignore the maid, sat up straight again and rather took care of her little cake. Disregarding the fork, she took it in her hand. It had just been prepared. She could feel it by the temperature. The sugary dough broke into small thin pieces in her mouth and mixed with the cold juice of the berries. It tasted better than she would have expected. Mr Monet had chosen well. If she would not be so hungry, she could enjoy it more, but so the taste unfortunately remained only for a short time.
Only one and a half bites later, worrying noises came from the door. Just as Meia turned around, the fidgety one stumbled forward on her right leg, still with her left leg in her hand. She had lost her balance and was well on her way to kissing the sandstone tiles. Trying to somehow avert the fall, she quickly jerked her arms forward and grabbed the first thing she could grab, thus catching the mini-palm. The flower vase, however, proved to be of little stability and immediately began to falter. Many leaves bent. The earth flew out over the edge. Everything was about to scatter across the floor, but only just, she managed to bring things back into balance. She herself had been able to save face, even if only from damage, but for the palm tree the outcome was less pleasing. She had completely battered it within a second. It was tilted, the leaves were partially bent and had been completely torn off.
What would one do in this situation? The maid seemingly knew exactly. Directly on noticing the damage, she began the repair work. She realigned the plame in the vase, scooped the remaining soil back in and straightened all the leaves - as if by this the damage would no longer be visible. Meanwhile, every now and then she cast a worried glimpse through the window into the house. It seemed as if she was quite afraid of her colleague. Meia could understand this. She would certainly wipe the floor with her.
While Meia sipped from her cup, sceptically monitoring the finishing touches, she remembered that earlier she claimed that she wanted to go to the toilet, which she had never done. Mr Monet had gone himself, so there had simply been no need. The fidgety maid, however, had heard her plea. Meia was undecided and thought for a moment whether she should go to the toilet to avoid appearing strange, but then gave up that thought as she saw the maid trying to put the torn leaf somewhere back in the palm tree. It refused to grow back onto the tree. After a short time, she resignedly stuffed it into the side pocket of her uniform and returned to her limp posture as if nothing had happened.
Her colleague's admonition had been completely in vain. She had not learned anything from her near fall either. She only seemed relieved that she was able to cover it up successfully. There were worlds between the two of them. Meia noticed that in contrast to her colleague, this maid had two braids. Her hair was partly in the colour of her eyes too. The lower halves of the braids were... the shade was called apple green or lime green. Meia didn't know for sure. In any case, it was a bright shade of green. Upon her observation, Meia wondered whether the hair colouring was part of the uniform or more a personal way of character expression?
Was the number of braids a numbering? Did that mean that there was somewhere an even worse maid with three braids? Meia droped this thought.
While the maid dozed by the door, she calmly drank her cappuccino and ate the little cake and as she did so, her gaze went over the pool, down the hill, to the flower meadows surrounding the estate. Looking at them this way, it seemed as if they stretched all the way to the horizon. Their end could not even be discerned. It was like a swaying sea of pure colour bathed in the reddish light of the early evening sun. You would never find anything like it in nature. It did not even look like it was real. It was much more like something out of a beautiful dream.
.../ End Part
