"This young girl is irreproachable," she wrote to her five or six months after her marriage; "at Pampeln everybody loves and respects and obeys her. No one dares raise the least doubt of her virtue, of the purity of her relations with the prince during her stay in Paris. She is absolute mistress at the château, where your name in a very short time will not be remembered. Your son Alexander himself will forget it, and will know only that of the woman who has become his real mother. As for Tekla, she will probably never speak it.
"I know what is going on in Courland from that excellent Madame Bernard, your son's governess. The prince authorized her to keep me informed about the health of the children. You may imagine I shall not ever go again to Pampeln. I do not want to have to blush for you.
"It is reported in St. Petersburg that Pierre Olsdorf is in Japan; but he only writes to Vera Soublaieff. She is the only person who knows for certain where he is.
"This is what your folly has brought my dream of ambition to. May God grant that no worse misfortunes are in store for you."
When poor Lise had received one of these letters, in which her mother was thus pitiless, she kept it from her husband, for he might have forbidden the correspondence, but she would hurry to Mme. Daubrel, who wept and did her best to console her. Then she would return to the Rue d'Assas, and a kiss from Paul would bring her calmness. The love of the ex-Princess Olsdorf for the man whose name she now bore was unchanged; she was still passionately attached to this man, to whom she had yielded so completely from the first hour.
Nor had Paul Meyrin changed; he was still the lover he had been. Lise was his adored, intoxicating, and extravagant mistress yet. Proud of the beauty and the distinguished air of his wife, he took her everywhere, and received many friends—painters, literary men, artists of all kinds, all enthusiastic about this noble stranger who, to marry one of their class, had given up without regret the title of princess and so high a social position.
Lise, on her part, had neglected nothing that could win the affection of this impressionable world, of which now she formed a part.
At first visitors came with a feeling of distrust, perhaps, too, in a critical spirit, for they wondered how this great Russian lady would bear herself toward them, habituated as she was to homage of every kind, and ready, perhaps, to think that they must be only too happy to be received by her; but in the case of each of them a few moments' conversation with Mme. Meyrin was enough to make them think her perfectly charming. She was simple, sweet, and anxious for the comfort of all of them.
Excellent musician as she was, other musicians found in her a nature able to understand them, and an executant of the first class for the interpretation of their works. The painters soon cited her as an able judge, and a critic both fair-dealing and kindly. As such she was looked upon by the literary men, some of whom got into the habit of putting their ideas before her, and asking for advice. It was not long before the studio in the Rue d'Assas became a meeting-place of much renown. The ex-Princess Olsdorf was happy and proud in doing the honors there.
This was the life she had pictured to herself with the man she loved, who, thanks to her, was now becoming well known as an artist. In the day-time, while Paul worked at some picture, the idea of which she had inspired, Lise would sit not far from him at her embroidery, reading or music, until the hour when the usual visitors to the studio gathered round her to tell her the chit-chat of the Parisian day. In the evening, if they had nobody to dinner, they would go to the theater; or they would go out arm in arm for a short walk—only a little way, that they might the sooner be at home and alone together again.