destiny of Faust, he prayed for the
protection of Heaven with all the ardent faith of a dying man in God and
the Virgin. A clear, bright radiance seemed to give him a glimpse of
the heaven of Michael Angelo or of Raphael of Urbino: a venerable
white-bearded man, a beautiful woman seated in an aureole above the
clouds and winged cherub heads. Now he had grasped and received the
meaning of those imaginative, almost human creations; they seemed to
explain what had happened to him, to leave him yet one hope.

But when the greenroom of the Italiens returned upon his sight he
beheld, not the Virgin, but a very handsome young person. The execrable
Euphrasia, in all the splendor of her toilette, with its orient pearls,
had come thither, impatient for her ardent, elderly admirer. She was
insolently exhibiting herself with her defiant face and glittering
eyes to an envious crowd of stockbrokers, a visible testimony to the
inexhaustible wealth that the old dealer permitted her to squander.

Raphael recollected the mocking wish with which he had accepted the old
man's luckless gift, and tasted all the sweets of revenge when he beheld
the spectacle of sublime wisdom fallen to such a depth as this,
wisdom for which such humiliation had seemed a thing impossible. The
centenarian greeted Euphrasia with a ghastly smile, receiving her
honeyed words in reply. He offered her his emaciated arm, and went
twice or thrice round the greenroom with her; the envious glances and
compliments with which the crowd received his mistress delighted him; he
did not see the scornful smiles, nor hear the caustic comments to which
he gave rise.

"In what cemetery did this young ghoul unearth that corpse of hers?"
asked a dandy of the Romantic faction.

Euphrasia began to smile. The speaker was a slender, fair-haired youth,
with bright blue eyes, and a moustache. His short dress coat, hat tilted
over one ear, and sharp tongue, all denoted the species.

"How many old men," said Raphael to himself, "bring an upright,
virtuous, and hard-working life to a close in folly! His feet are cold
already, and he is making love."

"Well, sir," exclaimed Valentin, stopping the merchant's progress, while
he stared hard at Euphrasia, "have you quite forgotten the stringent
maxims of your philosophy?"

"Ah, I am as happy now as a young man," said the other, in a cracked
voice. "I used to look at existence from a wrong standpoint. One hour of
love has a whole life in