exclaimed
Lisbeth, understanding the eloquence of her cousin's looks. "Otherwise,
like your mother, you will find yourself abandoned in a deserted room,
where you will weep like Calypso on the departure of Ulysses, and at an
age when there is no hope of Telemachus--" she added, repeating a jest
of Madame Marneffe's. "We have to regard the people in the world as
tools which we can make use of or let alone, according as they can serve
our turn. Make use of Madame Marneffe now, my dears, and let her alone
by and by. Are you afraid lest Wenceslas, who worships you, should fall
in love with a woman four or five years older than himself, as yellow as
a bundle of field peas, and----?"

"I would far rather pawn my diamonds," said Hortense. "Oh, never go
there, Wenceslas!--It is hell!"

"Hortense is right," said Steinbock, kissing his wife.

"Thank you, my dearest," said Hortense, delighted. "My husband is an
angel, you see, Lisbeth. He does not gamble, he goes nowhere without me;
if he only could stick to work--oh, I should be too happy. Why take us
on show to my father's mistress, a woman who is ruining him and is the
cause of troubles that are killing my heroic mother?"

"My child, that is not where the cause of your father's ruin lies. It
was his singer who ruined him, and then your marriage!" replied her
cousin. "Bless me! why, Madame Marneffe is of the greatest use to him.
However, I must tell no tales."

"You have a good word for everybody, dear Betty--"

Hortense was called into the garden by hearing the child cry; Lisbeth
was left alone with Wenceslas.

"You have an angel for your wife, Wenceslas!" said she. "Love her as you
ought; never give her cause for grief."

"Yes, indeed, I love her so well that I do not tell her all," replied
Wenceslas; "but to you, Lisbeth, I may confess the truth.--If I took my
wife's diamonds to the Monte-de-Piete, we should be no further forward."

"Then borrow of Madame Marneffe," said Lisbeth. "Persuade Hortense,
Wenceslas, to let you go there, or else, bless me! go there without
telling her."

"That is what I was thinking of," replied Wenceslas, "when I refused for
fear of grieving Hortense."

"Listen to me; I care too much for you both not to warn you of your
danger. If you go there, hold your heart tight in both hands, for
the woman is a witch. All who see her adore her; she is so wicked, so
inviting! She fascinates men like a masterpiece. Borrow her money, but
do not lea