Amid the half clad women was a half clad young man she assumed to be a male prostitute. She'd heard of such things. How French of them. He was handsome enough, but Eulalie had no need of prostitué. 

But she needed to return to the topic of her maid. Mon Dieu, must everything be explained to these Americans? Eulalie lifted her chin at the suggestion that her ladies' maid not be welcomed. She followed Ellie and attempted to explain.

"Her name is Georgine Bonhomme, and she is my lady's maid. I have in my possession a statement of her clean criminal record in France, and a letter of her good standing from mon pere, et she has her passeport. A lord does not travel without his valet, and a lady does not travel without her lady's maid. Surely you have maids, staff, non? Women who make beds and lay out clothes, non? Bien sûr, vous le faites. Washing, ironing, et, ah, the hair, she sets it up. All of that. She will work and live where your servants work and live, s'il vous plaît. She came all the way from La Havre with me, and she will continue to be in my services. En plus de, she is the only one I can trust should the family streak of narcolepsie affect my senses. So, she is not unlike a dog to see for the blind." She stopped in the hall, ready to refuse to go further, awaiting a response. "Surely you can arrange some form of... of a hall pass, for her to tend me as is her duties. You take this from her, you take away her livelihood and all she knows. This is her profession, and America is not her home. Certes, vous voyez?"