word so constantly flourished
over them by Lisbeth, and of the female demon to whom his mother and the
family owed so many woes. The Prince de Wissembourg, knowing all
about Madame Marneffe's conduct, approved of the young lawyer's secret
project; he had promised him, as a President of the Council can promise,
the secret assistance of the police, to enlighten Crevel and rescue
a fine fortune from the clutches of the diabolical courtesan, whom he
could not forgive either for causing the death of Marshal Hulot or for
the Baron's utter ruin.

The words spoken by Lisbeth, "He begs of his former mistresses," haunted
the Baroness all night. Like sick men given over by the physicians,
who have recourse to quacks, like men who have fallen into the lowest
Dantesque circle of despair, or drowning creatures who mistake a
floating stick for a hawser, she ended by believing in the baseness of
which the mere idea had horrified her; and it occurred to her that she
might apply for help to one of those terrible women.

Next morning, without consulting her children or saying a word to
anybody, she went to see Mademoiselle Josepha Mirah, prima donna of the
Royal Academy of Music, to find or to lose the hope that had gleamed
before her like a will-o'-the-wisp. At midday, the great singer's
waiting-maid brought her in the card of the Baronne Hulot, saying that
this person was waiting at the door, having asked whether Mademoiselle
could receive her.

"Are the rooms done?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"And the flowers fresh?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Just tell Jean to look round and see that everything is as it should be
before showing the lady in, and treat her with the greatest respect. Go,
and come back to dress me--I must look my very best."

She went to study herself in the long glass.

"Now, to put our best foot foremost!" said she to herself. "Vice under
arms to meet virtue!--Poor woman, what can she want of me? I cannot bear
to see.

"The noble victim of outrageous fortune!"

And she sang through the famous aria as the maid came in again.

"Madame," said the girl, "the lady has a nervous trembling--"

"Offer her some orange-water, some rum, some broth--"

"I did, mademoiselle; but she declines everything, and says it is an
infirmity, a nervous complaint--"

"Where is she?"

"In the big drawing-room."

"Well, make haste, child. Give me my smartest slippers, the
dressing-gown embroidered by Bijou, and no end of l