"

"Then my happiness will be complete," he said; "for I only see you now
in the Champs Elysees as you pass in your carriage, and that is very
seldom."

This thought dried the tears in his eyes as he gave his arm to his
beautiful pupil, who felt the old man's heart beat violently.

"You think of us?" she said.

"Always as I eat my food," he answered,--"as my benefactresses; but
chiefly as the first young girls worthy of love whom I ever knew."

So respectful, faithful, and religious a solemnity was in this speech
that the countess dared say no more. That smoky chamber, full of dirt
and rubbish, was the temple of the two divinities.

"There we are loved--and truly loved," she thought.

The emotion with which old Schmucke saw the countess get into her
carriage and leave him she fully shared, and she sent him from the tips
of her fingers one of those pretty kisses which women give each other
from afar. Receiving it, the old man stood planted on his feet for a
long time after the carriage had disappeared.

A few moments later the countess entered the court-yard of the hotel de
Nucingen. Madame de Nucingen was not yet up; but anxious not to keep a
woman of the countess's position waiting, she hastily threw on a shawl
and wrapper.

"My visit concerns a charitable action, madame," said the countess, "or
I would not disturb you at so early an hour."

"But I am only too happy to be disturbed," said the banker's wife,
taking the notes and the countess's guarantee. She rang for her maid.

"Therese," she said, "tell the cashier to bring me up himself,
immediately, forty thousand francs."

Then she locked into a table drawer the guarantee given by Madame de
Vandenesse, after sealing it up.

"You have a delightful room," said the countess.

"Yes, but Monsieur de Nucingen is going to take it from me. He is
building a new house."

"You will doubtless give this one to your daughter, who, I am told, is
to marry Monsieur de Rastignac."

The cashier appeared at this moment with the money. Madame de Nucingen
took the bank-bills and gave him the notes of hand.

"That balances," she said.

"Except the discount," replied the cashier. "Ha, Schmucke; that's the
musician of Anspach," he added, examining the signatures in a suspicious
manner that made the countess tremble.

"Who is doing this business?" said Madame de Nucingen, with a haughty
glance at the cashier. "This is my affair."

The cashier looked alternately at t