e _Chaumiere_ or the parish of
Notre-Dame de Lorette, keep him in leading-strings. If you do not take
such precautions, your artist will take to loafing, and if you only
knew what these artists mean by loafing! Shocking! Why, I have just
heard that they will spend a thousand-franc note in a day!"

This episode had a fatal influence on the home-life of Wenceslas and
Lisbeth. The benefactress flavored the exile's bread with the wormwood
of reproof, now that she saw her money in danger, and often believed
it to be lost. From a kind mother she became a stepmother; she took
the poor boy to task, she nagged him, scolded him for working too
slowly, and blamed him for having chosen so difficult a profession.
She could not believe that those models in red wax--little figures and
sketches for ornamental work--could be of any value. Before long,
vexed with herself for her severity, she would try to efface the tears
by her care and attention.

Then the poor young man, after groaning to think that he was dependent
on this shrew and under the thumb of a peasant of the Vosges, was
bewitched by her coaxing ways and by a maternal affection that
attached itself solely to the physical and material side of life. He
was like a woman who forgives a week of ill-usage for the sake of a
kiss and a brief reconciliation.

Thus Mademoiselle Fischer obtained complete power over his mind. The
love of dominion that lay as a germ in the old maid's heart developed
rapidly. She could now satisfy her pride and her craving for action;
had she not a creature belonging to her, to be schooled, scolded,
flattered, and made happy, without any fear of a rival? Thus the good
and bad sides of her nature alike found play. If she sometimes
victimized the poor artist, she had, on the other hand, delicate
impulses like the grace of wild flowers; it was a joy to her to
provide for all his wants; she would have given her life for him, and
Wenceslas knew it. Like every noble soul, the poor fellow forgot the
bad points, the defects of the woman who had told him the story of her
life as an excuse for her rough ways, and he remembered only the
benefits she had done him.

One day, exasperated with Wenceslas for having gone out walking
instead of sitting at work, she made a great scene.

"You belong to me," said she. "If you were an honest man, you would
try to repay me the money you owe as soon as possible."

The gentleman, in whose veins the blood of the Steinbocks