He had dreamed
of the beautiful girl of whom Lisbeth had told him, as Hortense had
dreamed of her cousin's lover; and, as she had entered the shop--
"Ah!" thought he, "if she could but be like this!"
The look that passed between the lovers may be imagined; it was a
flame, for virtuous lovers have no hypocrisies.
"Well, what the deuce are you doing here?" her father asked her.
"I have been spending twelve hundred francs that I had saved. Come."
And she took her father's arm.
"Twelve hundred francs?" he repeated.
"To be exact, thirteen hundred; you will lend me the odd hundred?"
"And on what, in such a place, could you spend so much?"
"Ah! that is the question!" replied the happy girl. "If I have got a
husband, he is not dear at the money."
"A husband! In that shop, my child?"
"Listen, dear little father; would you forbid my marrying a great
artist?"
"No, my dear. A great artist in these days is a prince without a title
--he has glory and fortune, the two chief social advantages--next to
virtue," he added, in a smug tone.
"Oh, of course!" said Hortense. "And what do you think of sculpture?"
"It is very poor business," replied Hulot, shaking his head. "It needs
high patronage as well as great talent, for Government is the only
purchaser. It is an art with no demand nowadays, where there are no
princely houses, no great fortunes, no entailed mansions, no
hereditary estates. Only small pictures and small figures can find a
place; the arts are endangered by this need of small things.
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