By seven o'clock Lisbeth had returned home in an omnibus, for she was to see Wenceslas, she had been for three weeks, and to she was a with fruit by the hands of Crevel himself, were his Cousin Betty.
She up to the at a that took her away, and the artist the of a box to be presented to the Hortense. The of the hydrangeas—in French called Hortensias—among which little Loves were playing. The lover, to him to pay for the materials of the box, of which the panels were of malachite, had designed two for Florent and Chanor, and them the copyright—two pieces of work.
"You have been too hard these last days, my dear fellow," said Lisbeth, the from his brow, and him a kiss. "Such is in the month of August. Seriously, you may your health. Look, here are some and from Monsieur Crevel. Now, do not worry so much; I have two thousand francs, and, of some disaster, we can them when you sell your clock. At the same time, the to me suspicious, for he has just sent in this document."
She the under the model sketch of the of General Montcornet.
"For are you making this thing?" said she, taking up the model of in red which Wenceslas had while the fruit.
"For a jeweler."
"For what jeweler?"
"I do not know. Stidmann asked me to make something out of them, as he is very busy."
"But these," she said in a voice, "are Hortensias. How is it that you have anything in for me? Is it so difficult to design a pin, a little box—what not, as a keepsake?" and she a at the artist, were lowered. "And yet you say you love me?"
"Can you it, mademoiselle?"
"That is an mademoiselle! Why, you have been my only since I you dying—just there. When I saved you, you you were mine, I to you to that pledge; but I a to myself! I said to myself, ‘Since the boy says he is mine, I to make him rich and happy!' Well, and I can make your fortune."
"How?" said the artist, at the of joy, and too to of a snare.
"Why, thus," said she.
Lisbeth not herself of the of at Wenceslas, who looked up at her with affection, the of his love for Hortense, which the old maid. Seeing in a man's eyes, for the time in her life, the of passion, she it was for her that it was lighted.
"Monsieur Crevel will us to the of a hundred thousand to start in business, if, as he says, you will me. He has ideas, has the man. Well, what do you say to it?" she added.
The artist, as as the dead, looked at his with a eye, which spoke his thoughts. He and open-mouthed.
"I was so told that I am hideous," said she, with a laugh.
"Mademoiselle," said Steinbock, "my can be in my eyes; I have the for you. But I am not yet thirty, and "
"I am forty-three," said Lisbeth. "My Adeline is forty-eight, and men are still in love with her; but then she is handsome—she is!"
"Fifteen years us, mademoiselle! How we on together! For our I think we should be wise to think it over. My shall be equal to your great kindness. And your money shall be in a days."
"My money!" she. "You me as if I were nothing but an usurer."
"Forgive me," said Wenceslas, "but you me of it so often. Well, it is you who have me; do not me."
"You to be of me, I can see," said she, her head. "Who has you with this of ingratitude—you who are a man of papier-mache? Have you to trust me—your good genius? me, when I have so many nights for you—when I have you every I have saved in my lifetime—when for four years I have my with you, the of a hard-worked woman, and you all I had, to my very courage."
"Mademoiselle—no more, no more!" he cried, her with hands. "Say not another word! In three days I will tell you, you shall know all. Let me, let me be happy," and he her hands. "I love—and I am loved."
"Well, well, my child, be happy," she said, him up. And she his and with the that a man to death must as he through the last morning.
"Ah! you are of all the and best! You are a match for the woman I love," said the artist.
"I love you well to for your fate," said she gloomily. "Judas himself—the always come to a end! You are me, and you will again do any good work. Consider whether, without being married—for I know I am an old maid, and I do not want to the of your youth, your poetry, as you call it, in my arms, that are like vine-stocks—but whether, without being married, we not on together? Listen; I have the spirit; I save you a in the of ten years' work, for Economy is my name! while, with a wife, who would be Expenditure, you would everything; you would work only to her. But nothing but memories. Even I, when I am of you, for hours with my hands in my lap-
"Come, Wenceslas, with me. Look here, I all about it; you shall have your mistresses; ones too, like that little Marneffe woman who wants to see you, and who will give you you with me. Then, when I have saved you thirty thousand a year in the "
"Mademoiselle, you are an angel, and I shall this hour," said Wenceslas, away his tears.
"That is how I like to see you, my child," said she, at him with rapture.
Vanity is so a power in us all that Lisbeth in her triumph. She had so much when him Madame Marneffe. It was the of her life; for the time she the full of in her heart. To go through such an again she would have her to the Devil.
"I am to be married," Steinbock replied, "and I love a woman with no other can or compare. But you are, and always will be, to me the mother I have lost."
The like an of on a crater. Lisbeth sat down. She with on the her, on his beauty—the artist's brow, the hair, that to her instincts, and her for an and up. She looked like one of those which the of the Middle Ages on monuments.
"I cannot you," said she, rising. "You—you are but a boy. God you!"
She and herself into her own room.
"She is in love with me, creature!" said Wenceslas to himself. "And how eloquent! She is crazy."
This last on the part of an and narrow nature to keep on an of and was, in truth, so that it can only be to the of a making the last to shore.
On the next day but one, at half-past four in the morning, when Count Steinbock was in the sleep, he a at the door of his attic; he rose to open it, and saw two men in clothing, and a third, dress him a on his luck.
"You are Monsieur Wenceslas, Count Steinbock?" said this man.
"Yes, monsieur."
"My name is Grasset, sir, to Louchard, sheriff's officer "
"What then?"
"You are under arrest, sir. You must come with us to prison—to Clichy. Please to dressed. We have done the civil, as you see; I have no police, and there is a below."
"You are safely nabbed, you see," said one of the bailiffs; "and we look to you to be liberal."
Steinbock and downstairs, a man each arm; when he was in the cab, the driver started without orders, as where he was to go, and an hour the himself safely under and without a remonstrance, so was he.
At ten o'clock he was sent for to the prison-office, where he Lisbeth, who, in tears, gave him some money to himself and to pay for a room large to work in.
"My dear boy," said she, "never say a word of your to anybody, do not to a soul; it would you for life; we must this on your character. I will soon have you out. I will the money—be easy. Write what you want for your work. You shall soon be free, or I will die for it."
"Oh, I shall you my life a second time!" he, "for I should more than my life if I were a fellow."
Lisbeth off in great glee; she hoped, by her artist under lock and key, to put a stop to his marriage by announcing that he was a married man, by the of his wife, and gone off to Russia.
To out this plan, at about three o'clock she to the Baroness, though it was not the day when she was to with her; but she to the which Hortense must at the hour when Wenceslas was in the of making his appearance.
"Have you come to dinner?" asked the Baroness, her disappointment.
"Well, yes."
"That's well," Hortense. "I will go and tell them to be punctual, for you do not like to be waiting."
Hortense to her mother, for she to tell the man-servant to send away Monsieur Steinbock if he should call; the man, however, to be out, so Hortense was to give her orders to the maid, and the girl to her and in the ante-room.
"And about my lover?" said Cousin Betty to Hortense, when the girl came back. "You ask about him now?"
"To be sure, what is he doing?" said Hortense. "He has famous. You ought to be very happy," she added in an to Lisbeth. "Everybody is talking of Monsieur Wenceslas Steinbock."
"A great too much," she in her clear tones. "Monsieur is departing. If it were only a of him so as to the of Paris, I know my power; but they say that in order to secure the services of such an artist, the Emperor Nichols has him "
"Nonsense!" said the Baroness.
"When did you that?" asked Hortense, who as if her had the cramp.
"Well," said the Lisbeth, "a person to he is by the most ties—his wife—wrote yesterday to tell him so. He wants to be off. Oh, he will be a great to give up France to go to Russia! "
Hortense looked at her mother, but her on one side; the Baroness was only just in time to support her daughter, who fainting, and as white as her kerchief.
"Lisbeth! you have killed my child!" the Baroness. "You were to be our curse!"
"Bless me! what fault of mine is this, Adeline?" Lisbeth, as she rose with a aspect, of which the Baroness, in her alarm, took no notice.
"I was wrong," said Adeline, supporting the girl. "Ring."
At this the door opened, the looked round, and saw Wenceslas Steinbock, who had been by the cook in the maid's absence.
"Hortense!" the artist, with one to the group of women. And he his her mother's eyes, on the forehead, and so reverently, that the Baroness not be angry. It was a than any salts. Hortense opened her eyes, saw Wenceslas, and her color came back. In a minutes she had recovered.
"So this was your secret?" said Lisbeth, at Wenceslas, and to the from her two cousins' confusion.
"But how did you away my lover?" said she, leading Hortense into the garden.
Hortense told the of her love. Her father and mother, she said, being that Lisbeth would marry, had the Count's visits. Only Hortense, like a full-blown Agnes, to her purchase of the group and the of the artist, who, by her account, had on the name of his purchaser.
Presently Steinbock came out to join the cousins, and thanked the old for his release. Lisbeth Jesuitically that the having very promises, she had not to be able to him out the morrow, and that the person who had her the money, ashamed, perhaps, of such conduct, had been with her. The old appeared to be perfectly content, and Wenceslas on his happiness.
"You boy!" said she, Hortense and her mother, "if you had only told me the last that you loved my Hortense, and that she loved you, you would have me many tears. I that you were your old friend, your governess; while, on the contrary, you are to my cousin; henceforth, you will be with me, remotely, it is true, but by that the I have for you." And she Wenceslas on the forehead.
Hortense herself into Lisbeth's arms and melted into tears.
"I my to you," said she, "and I will it."
"Cousin Betty," said the Baroness, Lisbeth in her at so settled, "the Baron and I you a of gratitude, and we will pay it. Come and talk over with me," she added, leading her away.
So Lisbeth, to all appearances, was playing the part of a good to the whole family; she was by Crevel and Hulot, by Adeline and Hortense.
"We wish you to give up working," said the Baroness. "If you earn a day, Sundays excepted, that makes six hundred a year. Well, then, how much have you saved?"
"Four thousand five hundred francs."
"Poor Betty!" said her cousin.
She her to heaven, so was she moved at the of all the labor and such a must thirty years.
Lisbeth, the meaning of the exclamation, took it as the of the successful woman, and her was by a large of at the very moment when her had off her last of of the of her childhood.
"We will add ten thousand five hundred to that sum," said Adeline, "and put it in trust so that you shall the for life with to Hortense. Thus, you will have six hundred a year."
Lisbeth the satisfaction. When she in, her to her eyes, away of joy, Hortense told her of all the being on Wenceslas, of the family.
So when the Baron came home, he his family all present; for the Baroness had Wenceslas by the title of Son, and the wedding was fixed, if her husband should approve, for a day a hence. The moment he came into the drawing-room, Hulot was at by his wife and daughter, who ran to meet him, Adeline to speak to him privately, and Hortense to him.
"You have gone too in me to this, madame," said the Baron sternly. "You are not married yet," he added with a look at Steinbock, who pale.
"He has of my imprisonment," said the artist to himself.
"Come, children," said he, leading his and the man into the garden; they all sat on the moss-eaten seat in the summer-house.
"Monsieur le Comte, do you love my as well as I loved her mother?" he asked.
"More, monsieur," said the sculptor.
"Her mother was a peasant's daughter, and had not a of her own."
"Only give me Mademoiselle Hortense just as she is, without a "
"So I should think!" said the Baron, smiling. "Hortense is the of the Baron Hulot d'Ervy, Councillor of State, high up in the War Office, Grand Commander of the Legion of Honor, and the to Count Hulot, is immortal, and who will long be Marshal of France! And—she has a marriage portion.
"It is true," said the artist. "I must very ambitious. But if my dear Hortense were a laborer's daughter, I would her "
"That is just what I wanted to know," the Baron. "Run away, Hortense, and me to talk with Monsieur le Comte. He loves you, you see!"
"Oh, papa, I was sure you were only in jest," said the happy girl.
"My dear Steinbock," said the Baron, with of and the most perfect manners, as soon as he and the artist were alone, "I promised my son a of two hundred thousand francs, of which the boy has had a sou; and he will any of it. My daughter's will also be two hundred thousand francs, for which you will give a receipt "
"Yes, Monsieur le Baron."
"You go too fast," said Hulot. "Have the to me out. I cannot from a son-in-law such as I look for from my son. My son all I and would do for his promotion: he will be a Minister, and will easily make good his two hundred thousand francs. But with you, man, are different. I shall give you a for sixty thousand in State at five cent, in your wife's name. This will be by a small in the of an to Lisbeth; but she will not live long; she is consumptive, I know. Tell no one; it is a secret; let the die in peace. My will have a twenty thousand francs; her mother will give her six thousand of diamonds.
"Monsieur, you me!" said Steinbock, bewildered.
"As to the hundred and twenty thousand "
"Say no more, monsieur," said Wenceslas. "I ask only for my Hortense "
"Will you to me, youth! As to the hundred and twenty thousand francs, I have not got them; but you will have them "
"Monsieur?"
"You will them from the Government, in payment for which I will secure for you, I you my word of honor. You are to have a studio, you see, at the Government depot. Exhibit a statues, and I will you at the Institute. The have a for my and for me, and I to succeed in for you a for at Versailles up to a of the whole sum. You will have orders from the City of Paris and from the Chamber of Peers; in short, my dear fellow, you will have so many that you will be to assistants. In that way I shall pay off my to you. You must say this way of a will you; you are equal to it."
"I am equal to making a for my wife single-handed if all else failed!" the artist-nobleman.
"That is what I admire!" the Baron. "High-minded that nothing. Come," he added, hands with the to the bargain, "you have my consent. We will the on Sunday next, and the wedding shall be on the Saturday, my wife's fete-day."
"It is all right," said the Baroness to her daughter, who to the window. "Your and your father are each other."
On going home in the evening, Wenceslas the of the of his release. The him a thick sealed packet, the of his debts, with a receipt at the of the writ, and by this letter:—
"MY DEAR WENCESLAS,—I to you at ten o'clock this
to you to a Royal Highness who to see
you. There I learned that the had had you to a
little domain—chief town, Clichy Castle.
"So off I to Leon de Lora, and told him, for a joke, that you
not your country for of four thousand
francs, and that you would your if you did
not make your to your patron. Happily, Bridau was there
—a man of genius, who has what it is to be poor, and has
your story. My boy, them they have the money,
and I off to pay the Turk who against
by you in quod. As I had to be at the Tuileries at
noon, I not wait to see you the air. I know
you to be a gentleman, and I answered for you to my two friends
—but look them up tomorrow.
"Leon and Bridau do not want your cash; they will ask you to do
them each a group—and they are right. At least, so thinks the man
who he himself your rival, but is only your
ally,
"STIDMANN.
"P. S. I told the Prince you were away, and would not return till
tomorrow, so he said, ‘Very good—tomorrow.'"
Count Wenceslas to in of purple, without a rose-leaf to them, that Favor can make for us—Favor, the who moves more slowly for men of than either Justice or Fortune, Jove has not to her eyes. Hence, by the of impostors, and by their and trumpets, she the time in them and the money in paying them which she ought to to out men of in the where they hide.
It will now be necessary to how Monsieur le Baron Hulot had to count up his on Hortense's wedding portion, and at the same time to the cost of the rooms where Madame Marneffe was to make her home. His financial that of which leads and men in love into the where so many them. Nothing can more the by vice, to which we the of skill which or men can occasionally achieve—or, in short, any of the Devil's pupils.
