"Thank you, my dearest," said Hortense, delighted. "My husband is an
angel, you see, Lisbeth. He does not gamble, he goes nowhere without
me; if he only could stick to work--oh, I should be too happy. Why
take us on show to my father's mistress, a woman who is ruining him
and is the cause of troubles that are killing my heroic mother?"
"My child, that is not where the cause of your father's ruin lies. It
was his singer who ruined him, and then your marriage!" replied her
cousin. "Bless me! why, Madame Marneffe is of the greatest use to him.
However, I must tell no tales."
"You have a good word for everybody, dear Betty--"
Hortense was called into the garden by hearing the child cry; Lisbeth
was left alone with Wenceslas.
"You have an angel for your wife, Wenceslas!" said she. "Love her as
you ought; never give her cause for grief."
"Yes, indeed, I love her so well that I do not tell her all," replied
Wenceslas; "but to you, Lisbeth, I may confess the truth.--If I took
my wife's diamonds to the Monte-de-Piete, we should be no further
forward."
"Then borrow of Madame Marneffe," said Lisbeth. "Persuade Hortense,
Wenceslas, to let you go there, or else, bless me! go there without
telling her."
"That is what I was thinking of," replied Wenceslas, "when I refused
for fear of grieving Hortense."
"Listen to me; I care too much for you both not to warn you of your
danger. If you go there, hold your heart tight in both hands, for the
woman is a witch.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302