had she not a creature belonging to her； to be schooled； scolded；
flattered； and made happy； without any fear of a rival？ Thus the good
and bad sides of her nature alike found play。 If she sometimes
victimized the poor artist； she had； on the other hand； delicate
impulses like the grace of wild flowers； it was a joy to her to
provide for all his wants； she would have given her life for him； and
Wenceslas knew it。 Like every noble soul； the poor fellow forgot the
bad points； the defects of the woman who had told him the story of her
life as an excuse for her rough ways； and he remembered only the
benefits she had done him。
One day； exasperated with Wenceslas for having gone out walking
instead of sitting at work； she made a great scene。
〃You belong to me；〃 said she。 〃If you were an honest man； you would
try to repay me the money you owe as soon as possible。〃
The gentleman； in whose veins the blood of the Steinbocks was fired；
turned pale。
〃Bless me；〃 she went on； 〃we soon shall have nothing to live on but
the thirty sous I earna poor work…woman！〃
The two penniless creatures； worked up by their own war of words； grew
vehement； and for the first time the unhappy artist reproached his
benefactress for having rescued him from death only to make him lead
the life of a galley slave； worse than the bottomless void； where at
least； said he； he would have found rest。 And he talked of flight。
〃Flight！〃 cried Lisbeth。 〃Ah； Monsieur Rivet was right。〃
And she clearly explained to the Pole that within twenty…four hours he
might be clapped into prison for the rest of his days。 It was a
crushing blow。 Steinbock sank into deep melancholy and total silence。
In the course of the following night； Lisbeth hearing overhead some
preparations for suicide； went up to her pensioner's room； and gave
him the schedule and a formal release。
〃Here； dear child； forgive me；〃 she said with tears in her eyes。 〃Be
happy； leave me！ I am too cruel to you； only tell me that you will
sometimes remember the poor girl who has enabled you to make a living。
What can I say？ You are the cause of my ill…humor。 I might die；
where would you be without me？ That is the reason of my being
impatient to see you do some salable work。 I do not want my money back
for myself； I assure you！ I am only frightened at your idleness； which
you call meditation； at your ideas； which take up so many hours when
you sit gazing at the sky； I want you to get into habits of industry。〃
All this was said with an emphasis； a look； and tears that moved the
high…minded artist； he clasped his benefactress to his heart and
kissed her forehead。
〃Keep these pieces；〃 said he with a sort of cheerfulness。 〃Why should
you send me to Clichy？ Am I not a prisoner here out of gratitude？〃
This episode of their secret domestic life had occurred six months
previously； and had led to Steinbock's producing three finished works：
the seal in Hortense's possession； the group he had placed with the
curiosity dealer； and a beautiful clock to which he was putting the
last touches； screwing in the last rivets。
This clock represented the twelve Hours； charmingly personified by
twelve female figures whirling round in so mad and swift a dance that
three little Loves perched on a pile of fruit and flowers could not
stop one of them； only the torn skirts of Midnight remained in the
hand of the most daring cherub。 The group stood on an admirably
treated base； ornamented with grotesque beasts。 The hours were told by
a monstrous mouth that opened to yawn； and each Hour bore some
ingeniously appropriate symbol characteristic of the various
occupations of the day。
It is now easy to understand the extraordinary attachment of
Mademoiselle Fischer for her Livonian； she wanted him to be happy； and
she saw him pining； fading away in his attic。 The causes of this
wretched state of affairs may be easily imagined。 The peasant woman
watched this son of the North with the affection of a mother； with the
jealousy of a wife； and the spirit of a dragon； hence she managed to
put every kind of folly or dissipation out of his power by leaving him
destitute of money。 She longed to keep her victim and companion for
herself alone； well conducted perforce； and she had no conception of
the cruelty of this senseless wish； since she； for her own part； was
accustomed to every privation。 She loved Steinbock well enough not to
marry him； and too much to give him up to any other woman； she could
not resign herself to be no more than a mother to him； though she saw
that she was mad to think of playing the other part。
These contradictions； this ferocious jealousy； and the joy of having a
man to herself； all agitated her old maid's heart beyond measure。
Really in love as she had been for four years； she cherished the
foolish hope of prolonging this impossible and aimless way of life in
which her persistence would only be the ruin of the man she thought of
as her child。 This contest between her instincts and her reason made
her unjust and tyrannical。 She wreaked on the young man her vengeance
for her own lot in being neither young； rich； nor handsome； then；
after each fit of rage； recognizing herself wrong； she stooped to
unlimited humility； infinite tenderness。 She never could sacrifice to
her idol till she had asserted her power by blows of the axe。 In fact；
it was the converse of Shakespeare's /Tempest/Caliban ruling Ariel
and Prospero。
As to the poor youth himself； high…minded； meditative； and inclined to
be lazy； the desert that his protectress made in his soul might be
seen in his eyes； as in those of a caged lion。 The penal servitude
forced on him by Lisbeth did not fulfil the cravings of his heart。 His
weariness became a physical malady； and he was dying without daring to
ask； or knowing where to procure； the price of some little necessary
dissipation。 On some days of special energy； when a feeling of utter
ill…luck added to his exasperation； he would look at Lisbeth as a
thirsty traveler on a sandy shore must look at the bitter sea…water。
These harsh fruits of indigence； and this isolation in the midst of
Paris； Lisbeth relished with delight。 And besides； she foresaw that
the first passion would rob her of her slave。 Sometimes she even
blamed herself because her own tyranny and reproaches had compelled
the poetic youth to become so great an artist of delicate work； and
she had thus given him the means of casting her off。
On the day after； these three lives； so differently but so utterly
wretchedthat of a mother in despair； that of the Marneffe household；
and that of the unhappy exilewere all to be influenced by Hortense's
guileless passion； and by the strange outcome of the Baron's luckless
passion for Josepha。
Just as Hulot was going into the opera…house； he was stopped by the
darkened appearance of the building and of the Rue le Peletier； where
there were no gendarmes； no lights； no theatre…servants； no barrier to
regulate the crowd。 He looked up at the announcement…board； and beheld
a strip of white paper； on which was printed the solemn notice：
〃CLOSED ON ACCOUNT OF ILLNESS。〃
He rushed off to Josepha's lodgings in the Rue Chauchat； for； like all
the singers； she lived close at hand。
〃Whom do you want； sir？〃 asked the porter； to the Baron's great
astonishment。
〃Have you forgotten me？〃 said Hulot； much puzzled。
〃On the contrary； sir； it is because I have the honor to remember you
that I ask you； Where are you going？〃
A mortal chill fell upon the Baron。
〃What has happened？〃 he asked。
〃If you go up to Mademoiselle Mirah's rooms； Monsieur le Baron； you
will find Mademoiselle Heloise Brisetout thereand Monsieur Bixiou；
Monsieur Leon de Lora； Monsieur Lousteau； Monsieur de Vernisset；
Monsieur Stidmann； and ladies smelling of patchouliholding a
housewarming。〃
〃Then； wherewhere is？〃
〃Mademoiselle Mirah？I don't know that I ought to tell you。〃
The Baron slipped two five…franc pieces into the porter's hand。
〃Well； she is now in the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque； in a fine house；
given to her； they say； by the Duc d'Herouville；〃 replied the man in a
whisper。
Having ascertained the number of the house； Monsieur Hulot called a
/milord/ and drove to one of those pretty modern houses with double
doors； where everything； from the gaslight at the entrance； proclaims
luxury。
The Baron； in his blue cloth coat； white neckcloth； nankeen trousers；
patent leather boots； and stiffly starched shirt…frill； was supposed
to be a guest； though a late arrival； by the janitor of this new Eden。
His alacrity of manner and quick step justified this opinion。
The porter rang a bell； and a footman appeared in the hall。 This man；
as new as the house； admitted the visitor； who said to him in an
imperious tone； and with a lordly gesture：
〃Take in this card to Mademoiselle Josepha。〃
The victim mechanically looked round the room in which he found
himselfan anteroom full of choice flowers and of furniture that must
have cost twenty thousand francs。 The servant； on his return； begged
monsieur to wait in the drawing…room till the company came to their
coffee。
Though the Baron had been familiar with Imperial luxury； which was
undoubtedly prodigious； while its productions； though not durable in
kind； had nevertheless cost enormous sums； he stood dazzled；
dumfounded； in this drawing…room with three windows looking out on a
garden like fairyland； one of those gardens that are created in a
month with a made soil and transplanted shrubs； while the grass seems
as if it must be made to grow by some chemical process。 He admired not
only the decoration； the gilding； the carving； in the most expensive
Pompadour style； as it is called； and the magnificent brocades； all of
which any enriched tradesman could have procured for money； but he
also noted such treasures as only princes can select and find； can pay
for and give away； two pictures by Greuze； two by Watteau； two heads
by Vandyck； two landscapes by Ruysdael； and two by le Guaspre； a
Rembrandt； a Holbein； a Murillo； and a Titian； two paintings； by
Teniers； and a pair by Metzu； a Van Huysum； and an Abraham Mignonin
short； two hundred thousand