Comte, to revive the heart you believe to be
frozen."

"Are you a match for Talma, then?" asked the Count satirically.

"No, Monsieur le Comte. But Nature is as far above Talma as Talma is
superior to me.--Listen: the garret you are interested in is inhabited
by a woman of about thirty, and in her love is carried to fanaticism.
The object of her adoration is a young man of pleasing appearance but
endowed by some malignant fairy with every conceivable vice. This fellow
is a gambler, and it is hard to say which he is most addicted to--wine
or women; he has, to my knowledge, committed acts deserving punishment
by law. Well, and to him this unhappy woman sacrificed a life of ease,
a man who worshiped her, and the father of her children.--But what is
wrong, Monsieur le Comte?"

"Nothing. Go on."

"She has allowed him to squander a perfect fortune; she would, I
believe, give him the world if she had it; she works night and day; and
many a time she has, without a murmur, seen the wretch she adores rob
her even of the money saved to buy the clothes the children need, and
their food for the morrow. Only three days ago she sold her hair, the
finest hair I ever saw; he came in, she could not hide the gold piece
quickly enough, and he asked her for it. For a smile, for a kiss, she
gave up the price of a fortnight's life and peace. Is it not dreadful,
and yet sublime?--But work is wearing her cheeks hollow. Her children's
crying has broken her heart; she is ill, and at this moment on her
wretched bed. This evening they had nothing to eat; the children have
not strength to cry, they were silent when I went up."

Horace Bianchon stood still. Just then the Comte de Granville, in spite
of himself, as it were, had put his hand into his waistcoat pocket.

"I can guess, my young friend, how it is that she is yet alive if you
attend her," said the elder man.

"O poor soul!" cried the doctor, "who could refuse to help her? I only
wish I were richer, for I hope to cure her of her passion."

"But how can you expect me to pity a form of misery of which the joys
to me would seem cheaply purchased with my whole fortune!" exclaimed
the Count, taking his hand out of his pocket empty of the notes which
Bianchon had supposed his patron to be feeling for. "That woman feels,
she is alive! Would not Louis XV. have given his kingdom to rise from
the grave and have three days of youth and life! And is not that the
history of thousands of dead me