"Here--here are five thousand francs Chanor has been so generous as to lend me," said Wenceslas, to cut short this lawyer-like examination.
He had made a division of the ten thousand-franc notes, half for Hortense and half for himself, for he had five thousand francs' worth of debts of which Hortense knew nothing. He owed money to his foreman and his workmen.
"Now your anxieties are relieved," said he, kissing his wife. "I am going to work to-morrow morning. So I am going to bed this minute to get up early, by your leave, my pet."
The suspicion that had dawned in Hortense's mind vanished; she was miles away from the truth. Madame Marneffe! She had never thought of her. Her fear for her Wenceslas was that he should fall in with street prostitutes. The names of Bixiou and Leon de Lora, two artists noted for their wild dissipations, had alarmed her.
Next morning she saw Wenceslas go out at nine o'clock, and was quite reassured.
"Now he is at work again," said she to herself, as she proceeded to dress her boy. "I see he is quite in the vein! Well, well, if we cannot have the glory of Michael Angelo, we may have that of Benvenuto Cellini!"
Lulled by her own hopes, Hortense believed in a happy future; and she was chattering to her son of twenty months in the language of onomatopoeia that amuses babes when, at about eleven o'clock, the cook, who had not seen Wenceslas go out, showed in Stidmann.
"I beg pardon, madame," said he. "Is Wenceslas gone out already?"
"He is at the studio."
"I came to talk over the work with him."
"I will send for him," said Hortense, offering Stidmann a chair.
Thanking Heaven for this piece of luck, Hortense was glad to detain Stidmann to ask some questions about the evening before. Stidmann bowed in acknowledgment of her kindness. The Countess Steinbock rang; the cook appeared, and was desired to go at once and fetch her master from the studio.
"You had an amusing dinner last night?" said Hortense. "Wenceslas did not come in till past one in the morning."
"Amusing? not exactly," replied the artist, who had intended to fascinate Madame Marneffe. "Society is not very amusing unless one is interested in it. That little Madame Marneffe is clever, but a great flirt."
"And what did Wenceslas think of her?" asked poor Hortense, trying to keep calm. "He said nothing about her to me."
"I will only say one thing," said Stidmann, "and that is, that I think her a very dangerous woman."
Hortense turned as pale as a woman after childbirth.
"So--it was at--at Madame Marneffe's that you dined--and not--not with Chanor?" said she, "yesterday--and Wenceslas--and he----"
Stidmann, without knowing what mischief he had done, saw that he had blundered.
The Countess did not finish her sentence; she simply fainted away. The artist rang, and the maid came in. When Louise tried to get her mistress into her bedroom, a serious nervous attack came on, with violent hysterics. Stidmann, like any man who by an involuntary indiscretion has overthrown the structure built on a husband's lie to his wife, could not conceive that his words should produce such an effect; he supposed that the Countess was in such delicate health that the slightest contradiction was mischievous.
The cook presently returned to say, unfortunately in loud tones, that her master was not in the studio. In the midst of her anguish, Hortense heard, and the hysterical fit came on again.
"Go and fetch madame's mother," said Louise to the cook. "Quick--run!"
"If I knew where to find Steinbock, I would go and fetch him!" exclaimed Stidmann in despair.
"He is with that woman!" cried the unhappy wife. "He was not dressed to go to his work!"
Stidmann hurried off to Madame Marneffe's, struck by the truth of this conclusion, due to the second-sight of passion.
At that moment Valerie was posed as Delilah. Stidmann, too sharp to ask for Madame Marneffe, walked straight in past the lodge, and ran quickly up to the second floor, arguing thus: "If I ask for Madame Marneffe, she will be out. If I inquire point-blank for Steinbock, I shall be laughed at to my face.--Take the bull by the horns!"
Reine appeared in answer to his ring.
"Tell Monsieur le Comte Steinbock to come at once, his wife is dying--"
Reine, quite a match for Stidmann, looked at him with blank surprise.
"But, sir--I don't know--did you suppose----"
"I tell you that my friend Monsieur Steinbock is here; his wife is very ill. It is quite serious enough for you to disturb your mistress." And Stidmann turned on his heel.
"He is there, sure enough!" said he to himself.
And in point of fact, after waiting a few minutes in the Rue Vanneau, he saw Wenceslas come out, and beckoned to him to come quickly. After telling him of the tragedy enacted in the Rue Saint-Dominique, Stidmann scolded Steinbock for not having warned him to keep the secret of yesterday's dinner.
"I am done for," said Wenceslas, "but you are forgiven. I had totally forgotten that you were to call this morning, and I blundered in not telling you that we were to have dined with Florent.--What can I say?
That Valerie has turned my head; but, my dear fellow, for her glory is well lost, misfortune well won! She really is!--Good Heavens!--But I am in a dreadful fix. Advise me. What can I say? How can I excuse myself?"
"I! advise you! I don't know," replied Stidmann. "But your wife loves you, I imagine? Well, then, she will believe anything. Tell her that you were on your way to me when I was on my way to you; that, at any rate, will set this morning's business right. Good-bye."
Lisbeth, called down by Reine, ran after Wenceslas and caught him up at the corner of the Rue Hillerin-Bertin; she was afraid of his Polish artlessness. Not wishing to be involved in the matter, she said a few words to Wenceslas, who in his joy hugged her then and there. She had no doubt pushed out a plank to enable the artist to cross this awkward place in his conjugal affairs.
