He is ten years younger than
the Baron, to be sure, and was only a tradesman; but how can it end?
This Madame Marneffe has made a slave of my father; he is her dog; she
is mistress of his fortune and his opinions, and nothing can open his
eyes. I tremble when I remember that their banns of marriage are
already published!--My husband means to make a last attempt; he thinks
it a duty to try to avenge society and the family, and bring that
woman to account for all her crimes. Alas! my dear Hortense, such
lofty souls as Victorin and hearts like ours come too late to a
comprehension of the world and its ways!--This is a secret, dear, and
I have told you because you are interested in it, but never by a word
or a look betray it to Lisbeth, or your mother, or anybody, for--"
"Here is Lisbeth!" said Hortense. "Well, cousin, and how is the
Inferno of the Rue Barbet going on?"
"Badly for you, my children.--Your husband, my dear Hortense, is more
crazy about that woman than ever, and she, I must own, is madly in
love with him.--Your father, dear Celestine, is gloriously blind.
That, to be sure, is nothing; I have had occasion to see it once a
fortnight; really, I am lucky never to have had anything to do with
men, they are besotted creatures.--Five days hence you, dear child,
and Victorin will have lost your father's fortune."
"Then the banns are cried?" said Celestine.
"Yes," said Lisbeth, "and I have just been arguing your case.
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