to trace some zigzag lines in the air with the
forefinger of his right hand.

Lisbeth, not listening to him, read these few words:

"DEAR COUSIN,--Be my Providence; give me three hundred francs this
day.

"HECTOR."

"What does he want so much money for?"

"The lan'lord!" said Chardin, still trying to sketch arabesques. "And
then my son, you see, has come back from Algiers through Spain and
Bayonee, and, and--he has _found_ nothing--against his rule, for a
sharp cove is my son, saving your presence. How can he help it, he is
in want of food; but he will repay all we lend him, for he is going to
get up a company. He has ideas, he has, that will carry him--"

"To the police court," Lisbeth put in. "He murdered my uncle; I shall
not forget that."

"He--why, he could not bleed a chicken, honorable lady."

"Here are the three hundred francs," said Lisbeth, taking fifteen gold
pieces out of her purse. "Now, go, and never come here again."

She saw the father of the Oran storekeeper off the premises, and
pointed out the drunken old creature to the porter.

"At any time when that man comes here, if by chance he should come
again, do not let him in. If he should ask whether Monsieur Hulot
junior or Madame la Baronne Hulot lives here, tell him you know of no
such persons."

"Very good, mademoiselle."

"Your place depends on it if you make any mistake, even without
intending it," said Lisbeth, in the woman's ear.--"Cousin," she went
on to Victorin, who just now came in, "a great misfortune is hanging
over your head."

"What is that?" said Victorin.

"Within a few days Madame Marneffe will be your wife's stepmother."

"That remains to be seen," replied Victorin.

For six months past Lisbeth had very regularly paid a little allowance
to Baron Hulot, her former protector, whom she now protected; she knew
the secret of his dwelling-place, and relished Adeline's tears, saying
to her, as we have seen, when she saw her cheerful and hopeful, "You
may expect to find my poor cousin's name in the papers some day under
the heading 'Police Report.'"

But in this, as on a former occasion, she let her vengeance carry her
too far. She had aroused the prudent suspicions of Victorin. He had
resolved to be rid of this Damocles' sword so constantly flourished
over them by Lisbeth, and of the female demon to whom his mother and
the family owed so many woes. The Prince de Wissembourg, knowing all
about Madame Marneffe's cond