Are you, like
all these men," and she indicated the guests, "madly in love with that
creature? Remember, you would be your father-in-law's rival. And think
of the misery you would bring on Hortense."
"That is true," said Wenceslas. "Hortense is an angel; I should be a
wretch."
"And one is enough in the family!" said Lisbeth.
"Artists ought never to marry!" exclaimed Steinbock.
"Ah! that is what I always told you in the Rue du Doyenne. Your
groups, your statues, your great works, ought to be your children."
"What are you talking about?" Valerie asked, joining Lisbeth.--"Give
us tea, Cousin."
Steinbock, with Polish vainglory, wanted to appear familiar with this
drawing-room fairy. After defying Stidmann, Vignon, and Crevel with a
look, he took Valerie's hand and forced her to sit down by him on the
settee.
"You are rather too lordly, Count Steinbock," said she, resisting a
little. But she laughed as she dropped on to the seat, not without
arranging the rosebud pinned into her bodice.
"Alas! if I were really lordly," said he, "I should not be here to
borrow money."
"Poor boy! I remember how you worked all night in the Rue du Doyenne.
You really were rather a spooney; you married as a starving man
snatches a loaf.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358