"Bring me your papers, and say nothing of your hopes to anybody, not even to our old Cousin Betty."
"Lisbeth?" said Madame Hulot, at last understanding the end of all this, though unable to guess the means.
"I could give proof of my skill by making a bust of the Baroness," added Wenceslas.
The artist, struck by Madame Hulot's beauty, was comparing the mother and daughter.
"Indeed, monsieur, life may smile upon you," said the Baron, quite charmed by Count Steinbock's refined and elegant manner. "You will find out that in Paris no man is clever for nothing, and that persevering toil always finds its reward here."
Hortense, with a blush, held out to the young man a pretty Algerine purse containing sixty gold pieces. The artist, with something still of a gentleman's pride, responded with a mounting color easy enough to interpret.
"This, perhaps, is the first money your works have brought you?" said Adeline.
"Yes, madame—my works of art. It is not the first-fruits of my labor, for I have been a workman."
"Well, we must hope my daughter's money will bring you good luck," said she.
"And take it without scruple," added the Baron, seeing that Wenceslas held the purse in his hand instead of pocketing it. "The sum will be repaid by some rich man, a prince perhaps, who will offer it with interest to possess so fine a work."