Part 21 (2/2)

”I was wrong,” said Adeline, supporting the girl. ”Ring.”

At this instant the door opened, the women both looked round, and saw Wenceslas Steinbock, who had been admitted by the cook in the maid's absence.

”Hortense!” cried the artist, with one spring to the group of women. And he kissed his betrothed before her mother's eyes, on the forehead, and so reverently, that the Baroness could not be angry. It was a better restorative than any smelling salts. Hortense opened her eyes, saw Wenceslas, and her color came back. In a few minutes she had quite recovered.

”So this was your secret?” said Lisbeth, smiling at Wenceslas, and affecting to guess the facts from her two cousins' confusion.

”But how did you steal away my lover?” said she, leading Hortense into the garden.

Hortense artlessly told the romance of her love. Her father and mother, she said, being convinced that Lisbeth would never marry, had authorized the Count's visits. Only Hortense, like a full-blown Agnes, attributed to chance her purchase of the group and the introduction of the artist, who, by her account, had insisted on knowing the name of his first purchaser.

Presently Steinbock came out to join the cousins, and thanked the old maid effusively for his prompt release. Lisbeth replied Jesuitically that the creditor having given very vague promises, she had not hoped to be able to get him out before the morrow, and that the person who had lent her the money, ashamed, perhaps, of such mean conduct, had been beforehand with her. The old maid appeared to be perfectly content, and congratulated Wenceslas on his happiness.

”You bad boy!” said she, before Hortense and her mother, ”if you had only told me the evening before last that you loved my cousin Hortense, and that she loved you, you would have spared me many tears. I thought that you were deserting your old friend, your governess; while, on the contrary, you are to become my cousin; henceforth, you will be connected with me, remotely, it is true, but by ties that amply justify the feelings I have for you.” And she kissed Wenceslas on the forehead.

Hortense threw herself into Lisbeth's arms and melted into tears.

”I owe my happiness to you,” said she, ”and I will never forget it.”

”Cousin Betty,” said the Baroness, embracing Lisbeth in her excitement at seeing matters so happily settled, ”the Baron and I owe you a debt of grat.i.tude, and we will pay it. Come and talk things over with me,” she added, leading her away.

So Lisbeth, to all appearances, was playing the part of a good angel to the whole family; she was adored by Crevel and Hulot, by Adeline and Hortense.

”We wish you to give up working,” said the Baroness. ”If you earn forty sous a day, Sundays excepted, that makes six hundred francs a year.

Well, then, how much have you saved?”

”Four thousand five hundred francs.”

”Poor Betty!” said her cousin.

She raised her eyes to heaven, so deeply was she moved at the thought of all the labor and privation such a sum must represent acc.u.mulated during thirty years.

Lisbeth, misunderstanding the meaning of the exclamation, took it as the ironical pity of the successful woman, and her hatred was strengthened by a large infusion of venom at the very moment when her cousin had cast off her last shred of distrust of the tyrant of her childhood.

”We will add ten thousand five hundred francs to that sum,” said Adeline, ”and put it in trust so that you shall draw the interest for life with reversion to Hortense. Thus, you will have six hundred francs a year.”

Lisbeth feigned the utmost satisfaction. When she went in, her handkerchief to her eyes, wiping away tears of joy, Hortense told her of all the favors being showered on Wenceslas, beloved of the family.

So when the Baron came home, he found his family all present; for the Baroness had formally accepted Wenceslas by the t.i.tle of Son, and the wedding was fixed, if her husband should approve, for a day a fortnight hence. The moment he came into the drawing-room, Hulot was rushed at by his wife and daughter, who ran to meet him, Adeline to speak to him privately, and Hortense to kiss him.

”You have gone too far in pledging me to this, madame,” said the Baron sternly. ”You are not married yet,” he added with a look at Steinbock, who turned pale.

”He has heard of my imprisonment,” said the luckless artist to himself.

”Come, children,” said he, leading his daughter and the young man into the garden; they all sat down on the moss-eaten seat in the summer-house.

”Monsieur le Comte, do you love my daughter as well as I loved her mother?” he asked.

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