The cashier appeared at this moment with the money. Madame de Nucingen took the bank-bills and gave him the notes of hand.
“That balances,” she said.
“Except the discount,” replied the cashier. “Ha, Schmucke; that’s the musician of Anspach,” he added, examining the signatures in a suspicious manner that made the countess tremble.
“Who is doing this business?” said Madame de Nucingen, with a haughty glance at the cashier. “This is my affair.”
The cashier looked alternately at the two ladies, but he could discover nothing on their impenetrable faces.
“Go, leave us—Have the kindness to wait a few moments that the people in the bank may not connect you with this negotiation,” said Madame de Nucingen to the countess.
“I must ask you to add to all your other kindness that of keeping this matter secret,” said Madame de Vandenesse.
“Most assuredly, since it is for charity,” replied the baroness, smiling. “I will send your carriage round to the garden gate, so that no one will see you leave the house.”
“You have the thoughtful grace of a person who has suffered,” said the countess.
“I do not know if I have grace,” said the baroness; “but I have suffered much. I hope that your anxieties cost less than mine.”