n have kissed Mr. Boltay's boots again, but the
worthy man escaped from the sentimental creature in time, and employed
the half-hour during which he was absent from her in scouring about the
slop-shops and collecting all sorts of ready-made garments, and returned
home with a complete suit, which Mrs. Meyer, despite her lady-like
squeamishness, was obliged to put on instead of her disgraceful rags.

And here I may mention, lest any of my readers should be blessed with as
strong a credulity as Mr. Boltay, that there was not one word of truth
in the tragic monologue above described. Mrs. Meyer had _not_ fallen out
with her daughters; they had _not_ turned her adrift; there was no need
for her to leap into the Danube. The matter stood simply thus: Abellino,
since his late rebuffs, had, full of passionate frenzy, plunged deeper
and deeper into his unsuccessful enterprise. He had just demanded from
Monsieur Griffard the last hundred thousand florins of the second
million promised to him. Abellino was constantly attended by a spy in
the service of the genial banker, who had immediately hastened to
acquaint his principals in Paris with the latest tidings from
Karpatfalva, notably of what had happened on the night of Squire John's
birthday. Monsieur Griffard, learning that Squire John was at the last
gasp, had sent Abellino not one, but two hundred thousand florins, for
which, of course, he was naturally expected to pay back as much again
at the proper time. A few days later, he learnt, from a second letter,
that the uncle was still alive, and likely to live; but, by that time,
the money was well on its way, and reached Abellino punctually, to his
great delight.

So now he had a hundred thousand more florins than he had reckoned upon,
and at such times a man is apt to feel confident. He therefore concocted
a little scheme whereby Mrs. Meyer (the girl's own mother!) should
artfully worm her way into the Boltay family, so as to get at her last
daughter, and--we know the rest!

She was to have sixty thousand florins down if the plan succeeded. "Is
it possible!" you will cry. Yes, quite possible. Say not that I paint
monsters; it is life that I describe.

Mrs. Meyer, no doubt, reflected that sixty thousand florins was a nice
little sum, and she meant to deposit thirty thousand of it in the
savings bank on her own account, and thirty thousand on Fanny's, and
thus the pair of them would be amply provided for for life. And what was