ere was, between the chimney and
the partition, a wretched sideboard of painted wood, pretending to be
mahogany, of all woods the most impossible to imitate. But the slippery
red quarries, the shabby little rugs in front of the chairs, and all
the furniture, shone with the hard rubbing cleanliness which lends a
treacherous lustre to old things by making their defects, their age,
and their long service still more conspicuous. An indescribable odor
pervaded the room, a mingled smell of the exhalations from the lumber
room, and the vapors of the dining-room, with those from the stairs,
though the window was partly open. The air from the street fluttered the
dusty curtains, which were carefully drawn so as to hide the window
bay, where former tenants had testified to their presence by various
ornamental additions--a sort of domestic fresco.

Adelaide hastened to open the door of the inner room, where she
announced the painter with evident pleasure. Hippolyte, who, of yore,
had seen the same signs of poverty in his mother's home, noted them with
the singular vividness of impression which characterizes the earliest
acquisitions of memory, and entered into the details of this existence
better than any one else would have done. As he recognized the facts
of his life as a child, the kind young fellow felt neither scorn for
disguised misfortune nor pride in the luxury he had lately conquered for
his mother.

"Well, monsieur, I hope you no longer feel the effects of your fall,"
said the old lady, rising from an antique armchair that stood by the
chimney, and offering him a seat.

"No, madame. I have come to thank you for the kind care you gave me, and
above all mademoiselle, who heard me fall."

As he uttered this speech, stamped with the exquisite stupidity given to
the mind by the first disturbing symptoms of true love, Hippolyte looked
at the young girl. Adelaide was lighting the Argand lamp, no doubt
that she might get rid of a tallow candle fixed in a large copper
flat candlestick, and graced with a heavy fluting of grease from its
guttering. She answered with a slight bow, carried the flat candlestick
into the ante-room, came back, and after placing the lamp on the chimney
shelf, seated herself by her mother, a little behind the painter, so as
to be able to look at him at her ease, while apparently much interested
in the burning of the lamp; the flame, checked by the damp in a dingy
chimney, sputtered as it struggled wit