"Monsieur Meyrin is a great artist, and artists, in France, as elsewhere, are received by everybody."
"To make a Madame Meyrin of a Princess Olsdorf! It is shameful. Any way, I warn you everything is at an end between us. Adieu. I will never see you again, until you can tell me that you have made up your mind to remain Lise Barineff."
As she suddenly opened the door of the room Mme. Podoi found herself face to face with Paul Meyrin, whom she recognized at once.
"So it is you, Mr. Painter," she said in a haughty voice. "My sincere compliments. I have paid dearly for my patronage of you in Russia. After betraying the prince who honored you by his hospitality, you carry off his wife and part a mother and her child. It is as an honorable man would have acted—exactly. To pay some debts a man must risk his life. You prefer marrying. Well, it is your business and my daughter's. Before a year has passed she will sing a different song."
Paul, hat in hand, let the flood sweep over him.
The young woman, who had followed her mother, put an end to the scene by drawing her future husband into the room.
The general's wife looked at them for a moment with angry eyes, muttering, "The idiots!" and disappeared.
"Forgive me," said Lise to Paul, winding her arms about his neck.
"Forgive you?" said Paul, laughing. "Why, I've been hearing worse than that at home. They are all densely stupid. I beg your pardon for saying so. If I do not love you as much as I do they would make me adore you."
He crushed her in his arms, covering her eyes and lips with kisses.