The painter tried his best to calm Lise. They agreed to await the course of events and act accordingly, keeping secret from everybody what was going on.
Paul Meyrin, indeed, was not at all anxious to acquaint his relatives with the new turn that his amour with the princess had taken, for he foresaw the opposition that his mother and sister, and especially his sister, would offer to the marriage. Although he had never said anything outright to the two women upon the subject, he had every reason to believe that they knew the true state of his relations with Lise Olsdorf, and that they were well aware of his being the father of little Tekla. If the Meyrins received at their house Paul's acknowledged mistress, it was because their vanity was flattered and their interest lay in making her welcome. Under the pretense that she adored artists, and had the right to act in Paris as she would have done in Russia, she heaped presents on all the Meyrins, big and little. Her love, then, cost them nothing; on the contrary. As formerly, the painter lived with the family and shared its expenses, giving, too, himself generously, for he reflected that he had no calls upon him and was making plenty of money.
With the Meyrins, and certainly as regarded Frantz, there was indeed no cynical and shameless speculation; but the feeling was there, though they were unconscious of it. The marriage of the artist to anybody would necessarily occasion so radical a change in their style of living that the idea of it had always been thrust into the background by those whose thorough interest it was to have him under their guidance.
Paul, without saying all these things to himself, was conscious of them. He was much concerned about what was to happen in the near future as he made his way back to the Rue de Douai.
After the painter had left her the princess wrote to her husband to say she was ready to obey him in all particulars.
CHAPTER IX.
IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO.
During the three days that she was traveling on the railway in a compartment near that of Prince Olsdorf, the pretty Vera Soublaieff had been in one long dream. She was going to Paris, which she had so often heard spoken of and so enthusiastically by her countrymen, to meet again the Princess Lise, who had always been so kind to her, and to live a less monotonous life than at Alba. The day after her arrival, already recovered from the fatigue of traveling, she awoke joyously, and, like a bird that the sun attracts, ran to the window of her room.
The apartments the Russian nobleman occupied at the Grand Hotel looked on to the boulevard. Although it was barely ten o'clock the sight it offered to Vera almost dazzled her. She had been for a long time under the charm when the body-servant of her master came to announce, in almost a ceremonious tone, that the prince was waiting luncheon for her.
"Waiting for me?" said the young girl. "I don't understand you, my good Yvan."
"I am only bringing the prince's message. The table is laid for two, and no visitor is expected."