ity. For the last three
years, Hortense, having become very inquisitive on such matters, had
pestered her cousin with questions, which, however, bore the stamp of
perfect innocence. She wanted to know why her cousin had never married.
Hortense, who knew of the five offers that she had refused, had
constructed her little romance; she supposed that Lisbeth had had a
passionate attachment, and a war of banter was the result. Hortense
would talk of "We young girls!" when speaking of herself and her cousin.

Cousin Betty had on several occasions answered in the same tone--"And
who says I have not a lover?" So Cousin Betty's lover, real or
fictitious, became a subject of mild jesting. At last, after two years
of this petty warfare, the last time Lisbeth had come to the house
Hortense's first question had been:

"And how is your lover?"

"Pretty well, thank you," was the answer. "He is rather ailing, poor
young man."

"He has delicate health?" asked the Baroness, laughing.

"I should think so! He is fair. A sooty thing like me can love none but
a fair man with a color like the moon."

"But who is he? What does he do?" asked Hortense. "Is he a prince?"

"A prince of artisans, as I am queen of the bobbin. Is a poor woman like
me likely to find a lover in a man with a fine house and money in the
funds, or in a duke of the realm, or some Prince Charming out of a fairy
tale?"

"Oh, I should so much like to see him!" cried Hortense, smiling.

"To see what a man can be like who can love the Nanny Goat?" retorted
Lisbeth.

"He must be some monster of an old clerk, with a goat's beard!" Hortense
said to her mother.

"Well, then, you are quite mistaken, mademoiselle."

"Then you mean that you really have a lover?" Hortense exclaimed in
triumph.

"As sure as you have not!" retorted Lisbeth, nettled.

"But if you have a lover, why don't you marry him, Lisbeth?" said the
Baroness, shaking her head at her daughter. "We have been hearing rumors
about him these three years. You have had time to study him; and if he
has been faithful so long, you should not persist in a delay which must
be hard upon him. After all, it is a matter of conscience; and if he is
young, it is time to take a brevet of dignity."

Cousin Betty had fixed her gaze on Adeline, and seeing that she was
jesting, she replied:

"It would be marrying hunger and thirst; he is a workman, I am a
workwoman. If we had children, they would be workmen.--No, no; we