in a wealthy house,
he had no available funds. Georges and he drew a certain sum from the
concern each month; then, when they struck a balance at the end of the
year they divided the profits. It had cost him a good deal to begin
housekeeping: all his savings. It was still four months before the
inventory. Where was he to obtain the 30,000 francs to be paid down at
once for the theatre? And then, beyond all that, the affair could not be
successful.

"Why, it must succeed. Bibi will be there!" As he spoke, poor Bibi drew
himself up to his full height; but Risler was determined, and all Bibi's
arguments met the same refusal--"Later, in two or three years, I don't
say something may not be done."

The actor fought for a long time, yielding his ground inch by inch. He
proposed revising his estimates. The thing might be done cheaper. "It
would still be too dear for me," Risler interrupted. "My name doesn't
belong to me. It is a part of the firm. I have no right to pledge it.
Imagine my going into bankruptcy!" His voice trembled as he uttered the
word.

"But if everything is in my name," said Delobelle, who had no
superstition. He tried everything, invoked the sacred interests of
art, went so far as to mention the fascinating actresses whose alluring
glances--Risler laughed aloud.

"Come, come, you rascal! What's that you're saying? You forget that
we're both married men, and that it is very late and our wives
are expecting us. No ill-will, eh?--This is not a refusal, you
understand.--By the way, come and see me after the inventory. We will
talk it over again. Ah! there's Pere Achille putting out his gas.--I
must go in. Good-night."

It was after one o'clock when the actor returned home. The two women
were waiting for him, working as usual, but with a sort of feverish
activity which was strange to them. Every moment the great scissors that
Mamma Delobelle used to cut the brass wire were seized with strange fits
of trembling, and Desiree's little fingers, as she mounted an insect,
moved so fast that it made one dizzy to watch them. Even the long
feathers of the little birds scattered about on the table before her
seemed more brilliant, more richly colored, than on other days. It was
because a lovely visitor named Hope had called upon them that evening.
She had made the tremendous effort required to climb five dark flights
of stairs, and had opened the door of the little room to cast a luminous
glance therein. However much