of her
enormous white teeth, "and he has given her ten thousand francs' worth
of presents already."

"What a good joke it would be!" cried Crevel, "if I got to the winning
post first!"

"Good heavens! It is too bad of me to be telling you all this
tittle-tattle," said Lisbeth, with an air of compunction.

"No.--I mean to put your relations to the blush. To-morrow I shall
invest in your name such a sum in five-per-cents as will give you
six hundred francs a year; but then you must tell me everything--his
Dulcinea's name and residence. To you I will make a clean breast of
it.--I never have had a real lady for a mistress, and it is the height
of my ambition. Mahomet's houris are nothing in comparison with what I
fancy a woman of fashion must be. In short, it is my dream, my mania,
and to such a point, that I declare to you the Baroness Hulot to me will
never be fifty," said he, unconsciously plagiarizing one of the greatest
wits of the last century. "I assure you, my good Lisbeth, I am prepared
to sacrifice a hundred, two hundred--Hush! Here are the young people,
I see them crossing the courtyard. I shall never have learned anything
through you, I give you my word of honor; for I do not want you to lose
the Baron's confidence, quite the contrary. He must be amazingly fond of
this woman--that old boy."

"He is crazy about her," said Lisbeth. "He could not find forty thousand
francs to marry his daughter off, but he has got them somehow for his
new passion."

"And do you think that she loves him?"

"At his age!" said the old maid.

"Oh, what an owl I am!" cried Crevel, "when I myself allowed Heloise to
keep her artist exactly as Henri IX. allowed Gabrielle her Bellegrade.
Alas! old age, old age!--Good-morning, Celestine. How do, my jewel!--And
the brat? Ah! here he comes; on my honor, he is beginning to be like
me!--Good-day, Hulot--quite well? We shall soon be having another
wedding in the family."

Celestine and her husband, as a hint to their father, glanced at the old
maid, who audaciously asked, in reply to Crevel:

"Indeed--whose?"

Crevel put on an air of reserve which was meant to convey that he would
make up for her indiscretions.

"That of Hortense," he replied; "but it is not yet quite settled. I have
just come from the Lebas', and they were talking of Mademoiselle Popinot
as a suitable match for their son, the young councillor, for he would
like to get the presidency of a provincial court.--Now, c