Dora, mute, immobile, was standing a couple of paces off.
"Oh, Dora dear, my dream is realised at last! For months I have worked in secret. I was so afraid of failing that I have never dared mention a word to you about this thing, but I have succeeded. I am rewarded for all my labour and agony of anxiety about my invention. This shell is bought by the French Government. I am rich—rich!" he cried. "Do you hear, darling? Oh, my Dora!"
And he folded her lovingly in his arms.
Eva had come, running in at the sound of her father's shouts, which had reached her ears.
"Daddy, daddy, what is the matter?"
Philip seized the child and lifted her in the air.
"Why, the matter is that your papa is a rich man. Are you glad?"
"Oh yes, of course I am very glad," said the child, seeing her father's beaming face. "Then we are going to be happier than ever?"
"Why, to be sure we are," said Philip, executing another swing of the child into the air.
Dora seemed to be stunned. She did not realise the situation, which, for that matter, could only be fully explained by Philip later on. All that the poor woman clearly understood for the moment was, that in the present state of excitement in which Philip appeared to be, he would certainly not finish the portrait that day.