t
her master was not in the studio. In the midst of her anguish,
Hortense heard, and the hysterical fit came on again.

"Go and fetch madame's mother," said Louise to the cook. "Quick--run!"

"If I knew where to find Steinbock, I would go and fetch him!"
exclaimed Stidmann in despair.

"He is with that woman!" cried the unhappy wife. "He was not dressed
to go to his work!"

Stidmann hurried off to Madame Marneffe's, struck by the truth of this
conclusion, due to the second-sight of passion.

At that moment Valerie was posed as Delilah. Stidmann, too sharp to
ask for Madame Marneffe, walked straight in past the lodge, and ran
quickly up to the second floor, arguing thus: "If I ask for Madame
Marneffe, she will be out. If I inquire point-blank for Steinbock, I
shall be laughed at to my face.--Take the bull by the horns!"

Reine appeared in answer to his ring.

"Tell Monsieur le Comte Steinbock to come at once, his wife is
dying--"

Reine, quite a match for Stidmann, looked at him with blank surprise.

"But, sir--I don't know--did you suppose----"

"I tell you that my friend Monsieur Steinbock is here; his wife is
very ill. It is quite serious enough for you to disturb your
mistress." And Stidmann turned on his heel.

"He is there, sure enough!" said he to himself.

And in point of fact, after waiting a few minutes in the Rue Vanneau,
he saw Wenceslas come out, and beckoned to him to come quickly. After
telling him of the tragedy enacted in the Rue Saint-Dominique,
Stidmann scolded Steinbock for not having warned him to keep the
secret of yesterday's dinner.

"I am done for," said Wenceslas, "but you are forgiven. I had totally
forgotten that you were to call this morning, and I blundered in not
telling you that we were to have dined with Florent.--What can I say?
That Valerie has turned my head; but, my dear fellow, for her glory is
well lost, misfortune well won! She really is!--Good Heavens!--But I
am in a dreadful fix. Advise me. What can I say? How can I excuse
myself?"

"I! advise you! I don't know," replied Stidmann. "But your wife loves
you, I imagine? Well, then, she will believe anything. Tell her that
you were on your way to me when I was on my way to you; that, at any
rate, will set this morning's business right. Good-bye."

Lisbeth, called down by Reine, ran after Wenceslas and caught him up
at the corner of the Rue Hillerin-Bertin; she was afraid of his Polish
artlessness. Not wishing to b