went on. "The Baron
would steal for a woman who held his heart in two little white satin
hands like yours!"

"Well, then," said Madame Marneffe, with the liberality of such
creatures, which is mere recklessness, "look here, my dear child;
take away from here everything that may serve your turn in your new
quarters--that chest of drawers, that wardrobe and mirror, the carpet,
the curtains----"

Lisbeth's eyes dilated with excessive joy; she was incredulous of such a
gift.

"You are doing more for me in a breath than my rich relations have done
in thirty years!" she exclaimed. "They have never even asked themselves
whether I had any furniture at all. On his first visit, a few weeks ago,
the Baron made a rich man's face on seeing how poor I was.--Thank you,
my dear; and I will give you your money's worth, you will see how by and
by."

Valerie went out on the landing with _her_ Cousin Betty, and the two
women embraced.

"Pouh! How she stinks of hard work!" said the pretty little woman to
herself when she was alone. "I shall not embrace you often, my dear
cousin! At the same time, I must look sharp. She must be skilfully
managed, for she can be of use, and help me to make my fortune."

Like the true Creole of Paris, Madame Marneffe abhorred trouble; she had
the calm indifference of a cat, which never jumps or runs but when
urged by necessity. To her, life must be all pleasure; and the pleasure
without difficulties. She loved flowers, provided they were brought to
her. She could not imagine going to the play but to a good box, at her
own command, and in a carriage to take her there. Valerie inherited
these courtesan tastes from her mother, on whom General Montcornet had
lavished luxury when he was in Paris, and who for twenty years had
seen all the world at her feet; who had been wasteful and prodigal,
squandering her all in the luxurious living of which the programme has
been lost since the fall of Napoleon.

The grandees of the Empire were a match in their follies for the great
nobles of the last century. Under the Restoration the nobility cannot
forget that it has been beaten and robbed, and so, with two or three
exceptions, it has become thrifty, prudent, and stay-at-home, in short,
bourgeois and penurious. Since then, 1830 has crowned the work of 1793.
In France, henceforth, there will be great names, but no great houses,
unless there should be political changes which we can hardly foresee.
Everything take