On seeing Dora quite unmoved, he added—
"Really, one would think, to look at you, that all this does not stir you to the least enthusiasm: it's curious! sometimes I can't quite make you out. I am nearly beside myself with delight. Now, listen a moment," said he, taking her hand. "I am negotiating with Russia. If they take my invention, as I have every hope that they will, my ambition will be satisfied, my wildest dreams realised. I shall be rich. You know we are not really rich. It costs a perfect fortune to keep this house going. Ah, but only let General Sabaroff approve of my shell, and, dearest,—we are all right."
He rubbed his hands with joy.
"Philip," said Dora, "I want to speak to you about this General Sabaroff."
"Yes, yes," said Philip, without heeding her; "I want you to charm him. You must make a conquest of him. Bring all your diplomacy to bear. He has an immense influence at the Russian Court, and is, I hear, the favourite Minister of the Czar. Being Minister of War, he is the master, the autocrat of his department. And, darling, I count on you to help me. I repeat to you, everything depends on him."
"Money again, Philip, always money," replied Dora. "Are you not rich enough yet? If we have not the income to keep a house like this, why do we live in it? Why should we live beyond our means? I don't think it is right, Philip. What has become of those happy days when we loved each other so much, and when you thought only of your art? Ah, give me back my dear studio."
"I am not rich enough yet," said Philip, "but I am perhaps on the road that leads to fortune."
"You were rich before, and on the road to fame. I loved an artist and I adored his art."
"Oh, deuce take art and artists," cried Philip, getting angry.
"Philip, how can you? If you only knew how it pains me to hear you speak like that."