ent honesty, of suppressed desire
and renewed temptation, which makes the French capital the daughter of
Ninevah, of Babylon, and of Imperial Rome.
Mademoiselle Olympe Bijou, a child of sixteen, had the exquisite face
which Raphael drew for his Virgins; eyes of pathetic innocence, weary
with overwork--black eyes, with long lashes, their moisture parched
with the heat of laborious nights, and darkened with fatigue; a
complexion like porcelain, almost too delicate; a mouth like a partly
opened pomegranate; a heaving bosom, a full figure, pretty hands, the
whitest teeth, and a mass of black hair; and the whole meagrely set
off by a cotton frock at seventy-five centimes the metre, leather
shoes without heels, and the cheapest gloves. The girl, all
unconscious of her charms, had put on her best frock to wait on the
fine lady.
The Baron, gripped again by the clutch of profligacy, felt all his
life concentrated in his eyes. He forgot everything on beholding this
delightful creature. He was like a sportsman in sight of the game; if
an emperor were present, he must take aim!
"And warranted sound," said Josepha in his ear. "An honest child, and
wanting bread. This is Paris--I have been there!"
"It is a bargain," replied the old man, getting up and rubbing his
hands.
When Olympe Bijou was gone, Josepha looked mischievously at the Baron.
"If you want things to keep straight, Daddy," said she, "be as firm as
the Public Prosecutor on the bench. Keep a tight hand on her, be a
Bartholo! Ware Auguste, Hippolyte, Nestor, Victor--_or_, that is gold,
in every form. When once the child is fed and dressed, if she gets the
upper hand, she will drive you like a serf.--I will see to settling
you comfortably. The Duke does the handsome; he will lend--that is,
give--you ten thousand francs; and he deposits eight thousand with his
notary, who will pay you six hundred francs every quarter, for I
cannot trust you.--Now, am I nice?"
"Adorable."
Ten days after deserting his family, when they were gathered round
Adeline, who seemed to be dying, as she said again and again, in a
weak voice, "Where is he?" Hector, under the name of Thoul, was
established in the Rue Saint-Maur, at the head of a business as
embroiderer, under the name of Thoul and Bijou.
Victorin Hulot, under the overwhelming disasters of his family, had
received the finishing touch which makes or mars the man. He was
perfection. In the great storms of life we act
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