l them to be
punctual, for you do not like to be kept waiting."

Hortense nodded reassuringly to her mother, for she intended to tell
the man-servant to send away Monsieur Steinbock if he should call; the
man, however, happened to be out, so Hortense was obliged to give her
orders to the maid, and the girl went upstairs to fetch her needlework
and sit in the ante-room.

"And about my lover?" said Cousin Betty to Hortense, when the girl
came back. "You never ask about him now?"

"To be sure, what is he doing?" said Hortense. "He has become famous.
You ought to be very happy," she added in an undertone to Lisbeth.
"Everybody is talking of Monsieur Wenceslas Steinbock."

"A great deal too much," replied she in her clear tones. "Monsieur is
departing.--If it were only a matter of charming him so far as to defy
the attractions of Paris, I know my power; but they say that in order
to secure the services of such an artist, the Emperor Nichols has
pardoned him----"

"Nonsense!" said the Baroness.

"When did you hear that?" asked Hortense, who felt as if her heart had
the cramp.

"Well," said the villainous Lisbeth, "a person to whom he is bound by
the most sacred ties--his wife--wrote yesterday to tell him so. He
wants to be off. Oh, he will be a great fool to give up France to go
to Russia!--"

Hortense looked at her mother, but her head sank on one side; the
Baroness was only just in time to support her daughter, who dropped
fainting, and as white as her lace kerchief.

"Lisbeth! you have killed my child!" cried the Baroness. "You were
born to be our curse!"

"Bless me! what fault of mine is this, Adeline?" replied Lisbeth, as
she rose with a menacing aspect, of which the Baroness, in her alarm,
took no notice.

"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