tests,
uttered or unexpressed, in which a word often betrays a thought; as,
in fencing, the foils fly as briskly as the swords in duel. Then a
prudent man follows the example of Monsieur de Turenne. Thus the Baron
had hinted at the greater freedom his daughter's marriage would allow
him, in reply to the tender Valerie, who more than once had exclaimed:

"I cannot imagine how a woman can go wrong for a man who is not wholly
hers."

And a thousand times already the Baron had declared that for
five-and-twenty years all had been at an end between Madame Hulot and
himself.

"And they say she is so handsome!" replied Madame Marneffe. "I want
proof."

"You shall have it," said the Baron, made happy by this demand, by
which his Valerie committed herself.

Hector had then been compelled to reveal his plans, already being
carried into effect in the Rue Vanneau, to prove to Valerie that he
intended to devote to her that half of his life which belonged to his
lawful wife, supposing that day and night equally divide the existence
of civilized humanity. He spoke of decently deserting his wife,
leaving her to herself as soon as Hortense should be married. The
Baroness would then spend all her time with Hortense or the young
Hulot couple; he was sure of her submission.

"And then, my angel, my true life, my real home will be in the Rue
Vanneau."

"Bless me, how you dispose of me!" said Madame Marneffe. "And my
husband----"

"That rag!"

"To be sure, as compared with you so he is!" said she with a laugh.

Madame Marneffe, having heard Steinbock's history, was frantically
eager to see the young Count; perhaps she wished to have some trifle
of his work while they still lived under the same roof. This curiosity
so seriously annoyed the Baron that Valerie swore to him that she
would never even look at Wenceslas. But though she obtained, as the
reward of her surrender of this wish, a little tea-service of old
Sevres _pate tendre_, she kept her wish at the bottom of her heart, as
if written on tablets.

So one day when she had begged "_my_ Cousin Betty" to come to take
coffee with her in her room, she opened on the subject of her lover,
to know how she might see him without risk.

"My dear child," said she, for they called each my dear, "why have you
never introduced your lover to me? Do you know that within a short
time he has become famous?"

"He famous?"

"He is the one subject of conversation."

"Pooh!" cried Lisbet