e made if one of them would buy or even look at
the wretched piece of metal. The poor fellow is sure that it might be
mistaken for old work, and that the rubbish is worth a great deal of
money. And then, if one of the ministers should purchase the group, he
would go to pay his respects, and prove that he was the maker, and be
almost carried in triumph! Oh! he believes he has reached the pinnacle;
poor young man, and he is as proud as two newly-made Counts."

"Michael Angelo over again; but, for a lover, he has kept his head on
his shoulders!" said Hortense. "And how much does he want for it?"

"Fifteen hundred francs. The dealer will not let it go for less, since
he must take his commission."

"Papa is in the King's household just now," said Hortense. "He sees
those two ministers every day at the Chamber, and he will do the
thing--I undertake that. You will be a rich woman, Madame la Comtesse de
Steinbock."

"No, the boy is too lazy; for whole weeks he sits twiddling with bits
of red wax, and nothing comes of it. Why, he spends all his days at the
Louvre and the Library, looking at prints and sketching things. He is an
idler!"

The cousins chatted and giggled; Hortense laughing a forced laugh, for
she was invaded by a kind of love which every girl has gone through--the
love of the unknown, love in its vaguest form, when every thought is
accreted round some form which is suggested by a chance word, as the
efflorescence of hoar-frost gathers about a straw that the wind has
blown against the window-sill.

For the past ten months she had made a reality of her cousin's imaginary
romance, believing, like her mother, that Lisbeth would never marry;
and now, within a week, this visionary being had become Comte Wenceslas
Steinbock, the dream had a certificate of birth, the wraith had
solidified into a young man of thirty. The seal she held in her hand--a
sort of Annunciation in which genius shone like an immanent light--had
the powers of a talisman. Hortense felt such a surge of happiness, that
she almost doubted whether the tale were true; there was a ferment in
her blood, and she laughed wildly to deceive her cousin.

"But I think the drawing-room door is open," said Lisbeth; "let us go
and see if Monsieur Crevel is gone."

"Mamma has been very much out of spirits these two days. I suppose the
marriage under discussion has come to nothing!"

"Oh, it may come on again. He is--I may tell you so much--a Councillor
of t