"Your indigestion does honor to my wife's dinner, Lisbeth," said he, scrutinizing her, for Lisbeth was perfectly well, trying to imitate the hiccough of spasmodic indigestion as she drank her tea.
"How lucky it is that dear Betty should be living under my roof!" said Madame Marneffe. "But for me, the poor thing would have died."
"You look as if you only half believed it," added Lisbeth, turning to the Baron, "and that would be a shame——"
"Why?" asked the Baron. "Do you know the purpose of my visit?"
And he leered at the door of a dressing-closet from which the key had been withdrawn.
"Are you talking Greek?" said Madame Marneffe, with an appealing look of misprized tenderness and devotedness.
"But it is all through you, my dear cousin; yes, it is your doing that I am in such a state," said Lisbeth vehemently.
This speech diverted the Baron's attention; he looked at the old maid with the greatest astonishment.
"You know that I am devoted to you," said Lisbeth. "I am here, that says everything. I am wearing out the last shreds of my strength in watching over your interests, since they are one with our dear Valerie's. Her house costs one-tenth of what any other does that is kept on the same scale. But for me, Cousin, instead of two thousand francs a month, you would be obliged to spend three or four thousand."
"I know all that," replied the Baron out of patience; "you are our protectress in many ways," he added, turning to Madame Marneffe and putting his arm round her neck.—"Is not she, my pretty sweet?"