And so, in of the Baron's of money, nothing was that public opinion require, not the of the newspapers over his daughter's marriage, which was in the same way, in every particular, as his son's had been to Mademoiselle Crevel. This the reports as to the Baron's financial position, while the to his the need for having money.
Here ends what is, in a way, the to this story. It is to the that that the is to a syllogism, what the is to a tragedy.
Chapter-16
Lisbeth Fischer the place in the Marneffe of a relation who the functions of a lady and a housekeeper; but she from none of the which, for the most part, upon the who are so as to be to these situations. Lisbeth and Valerie offered the of one of those women, so and so improbable, that men, always too keen-tongued in Paris, them. The Lisbeth's nature and Valerie's calumny. And Madame Marneffe had weight to the by the she took of her friend, with views, which were, as will be seen, to complete Lisbeth's revenge.
An had taken place in Cousin Betty; and Valerie, who wanted to her, had it to the best account. The woman had submitted to stays, and tightly, she used to keep her smooth, her as the sent them home, little boots, and stockings, all of which were in Valerie's bills, and paid for by the in possession. Thus up, and the yellow shawl, Lisbeth would have been by any one who had not her for three years.
This other diamond—a black diamond, the of all—cut by a hand, and set as best her, was at her full value by clerks. Any one her for the time might have at the look of which the Valerie had succeeded in out by the of dress in this Bleeding Nun, the in thick of as black as the eyes, and making the most of the rigid, figure. Lisbeth, like a Virgin by Cranach or Van Eyck, or a Byzantine Madonna out of its frame, had all the stiffness, the of those figures, the more modern of Isis and her sister in marble by Egyptian sculptors. It was granite, basalt, porphyry, with life and movement.
Saved from want for the of her life, Lisbeth was most amiable; she she merriment. And the Baron paid the rent of her little apartment, furnished, as we know, with the of her friend Valerie's and bedroom.
"I began," she would say, "as a nanny goat, and I am as a lionne."
She still for Monsieur Rivet at the more of gold-trimming, merely, as she said, not to her time. At the same time, she was, as we shall see, very full of business; but it is in the nature of country-folks to give up bread-winning; in this they are like the Jews.
Every morning, very early, Cousin Betty off to market with the cook. It was part of Lisbeth's that the house-book, which was Baron Hulot, was to her dear Valerie—as it did indeed.
Is there a who, since 1838, has not from the of Socialist among the by writers? In every the of is the of financial afflictions. With very exceptions, who ought to be with the Montyon prize, the cook, male or female, is a robber, a taking wages, and perfectly barefaced, with the Government for a fence, the to dishonesty, which is almost in the cook by the time-honored as to the "handle of the basket." The who up their to a lottery ticket now take fifty to put into the savings bank. And the Puritans who themselves in France with that they are making the common people moral!
Between the market and the master's table the have their toll, and the of Paris is less in the city-dues than the are in taking theirs on every single thing. To say nothing of fifty on every of food, they large New Year's premiums from the tradesmen. The best class of this power, and it without a word—coachmakers, jewelers, tailors, and all. If any attempt is to with them, the reply with retorts, or themselves by the of clumsiness; and in these days they into their master's as, formerly, the master into theirs. This is now at its height, and the law-courts are to take of it; but in vain, for it cannot be but by a law which shall servants, like laborers, to have a pass-book as a of conduct. Then the will as if by magic. If every were to his pass-book, and if masters were to in it the of his dismissal, this would prove a powerful check to the evil.
The men who are their to the politics of the day know not to what lengths the of the has gone. Statistics are as to the number of men of twenty who cooks of and fifty by robbery. We to think of the result of such from the three points of view of crime, of the race, and households.
As to the financial that results from peculation, that too is from a political point of view. Life being to cost double, any in most households. Now means the of the world, as it is the of life. Books and flowers are to many as necessary as bread.
Lisbeth, well aware of this of Parisian households, to manage Valerie's, promising her every in the terrible when the two had to be like sisters. So she had from the of the Vosges a relation on her mother's side, a very and soul, who had been cook to the Bishop of Nancy. Fearing, however, her of Paris ways, and yet more the which such virtue, at Lisbeth always to market with Mathurine, and to teach her what to buy. To know the prices of and the salesman's respect; to purchase delicacies, such as fish, only when they were cheap; to be well as to the price of and provisions, so as to when prices are low in of a rise,—all this skill is in Paris to economy. As Mathurine got good and many presents, she liked the house well to be to drive good bargains. And by this time Lisbeth had her a match for herself, and to be sent to market alone, unless Valerie was a dinner—which, in fact, was not the case. And this was how it came about.
The Baron had at the decorum; but his for Madame Marneffe had long so vehement, so greedy, that he would her if he help it. At he there four times a week; then he it to with her every day. Six months after his daughter's marriage he was paying her two thousand a month for his board. Madame Marneffe any one her dear Baron to entertain. The dinner was always for six; he in three guests. Lisbeth's economy her to solve the problem of up the table in the best for a thousand a month, the other thousand to Madame Marneffe. Valerie's dress being paid for by Crevel and the Baron, the two saved another thousand a month on this.
And so this pure and being had already a hundred and fifty thousand in savings. She had her and monthly bonus, and the amount by interest, to Crevel's in his "little Duchess" to her money in partnership with him in his financial operations. Crevel had Valerie the and the of the money market, and, like every Parisian woman, she had soon her master. Lisbeth, who a of her twelve hundred francs, rent and dress were to her, and who put her hand in her pocket, had a small of five or six thousand francs, of which Crevel took care.
At the same time, two such lovers were a on Valerie. On the day when this reopens, Valerie, by one of those which have the in life that the of a has in a of to settle, up to Lisbeth's rooms to give to one of those lamentations—a of cigarette off from the tongue—by which the minor of life.
"Oh, Lisbeth, my love, two hours of Crevel this morning! It is crushing! How I wish I send you in my place!"
"That, unluckily, is impossible," said Lisbeth, smiling. "I shall die a maid."
"Two old men lovers! Really, I am sometimes! If my mother see me."
"You are me for Crevel!" said Lisbeth.
"Tell me, my little Betty, do you not me?"
"Oh! if I had but been pretty, what I would have had!" Lisbeth. "That is your justification."
"But you would have only at the of your heart," said Madame Marneffe, with a sigh.
"Pooh! Marneffe is a man they have to bury," Lisbeth. "The Baron is as good as your husband; Crevel is your adorer; it to me that you are in order—like every other married woman."
"No, it is not that, dear, thing; that is not where the shoe pinches; you do not choose to understand."
"Yes, I do," said Lisbeth. "The is part of my revenge; what can I do? I am it out."
"I love Wenceslas so that I am positively thin, and I can see him," said Valerie, up her arms. "Hulot him to dinner, and my artist declines. He not know that I him, the wretch! What is his wife after all? Fine flesh! Yes, she is handsome, but I—I know myself—I am worse!"
"Be easy, my child, he will come," said Lisbeth, in the of a nurse to an child. "He shall."
"But when?"
"This week perhaps."
"Give me a kiss."
As may be seen, these two were but one. Everything Valerie did, her most actions, her pleasures, her little sulks, were on after them.
Lisbeth, by this existence, Valerie on every step, and her of with logic. She Valerie; she had taken her to be her child, her friend, her love; she her docile, as Creoles are, from indolence; she with her after with more than with Wenceslas; they laugh together over the they plotted, and over the of men, and count up the on their savings.
Indeed, in this new enterprise and new affection, Lisbeth had food for her activity that was more satisfying than her for Wenceslas. The of are the and the can know. Love is the gold, the iron of the mine of that in us. And then, Valerie was, to Lisbeth, Beauty in all its glory—the she worshiped, as we what we have not, more plastic to her hand than that of Wenceslas, who had always been cold to her and distant.
At the end of nearly three years, Lisbeth was to the progress of the mine on which she was her life and her mind. Lisbeth planned, Madame Marneffe acted. Madame Marneffe was the axe, Lisbeth was the hand the it, and that hand was the family which was every day more to her; for we can more and more, just as, when we love, we love every day.
Love and are that on themselves; but of the two, has the longer vitality. Love is restricted limits of power; it its from life and from lavishness. Hatred is like death, like avarice; it is, so to speak, an active abstraction, above beings and things.
Lisbeth, on the that was natural to her, in it all her faculties; governing, like the Jesuits, by influences. The of her person was complete; her was radiant. Lisbeth of Madame la Marechale Hulot.
This little scene, in which the two friends had their ideas without any in them, took place on Lisbeth's return from market, she had been to the materials for an dinner. Marneffe, who to Coquet's place, was to him and the Madame Coquet, and Valerie to Hulot, that very evening, to the head-clerk's resignation.
Lisbeth to go to the Baroness, with she was to dine.
"You will come in time to make tea for us, my Betty?" said Valerie.
"I so."
"You so—why? Have you come to sleeping with Adeline to drink her while she is asleep?"
"If only I could!" said Lisbeth, laughing. "I would not refuse. She is her happiness—and I am glad, for I our days. It is my turn now. She will be in the mire, and I shall be Comtesse de Forzheim!"
