"Monsieur is a celebratedpainter, whose name must be known to you
in spite of your indifference to the arts."

The old man saw his friend's mischievousintent in suppressing
the name, and bowed to the young man.

"Certainly," said he. "I heard a great deal about his pictures at
the last Salon. Talent has immense privileges." he added,

observing the artist's red ribbon. "That distinction, which we
must earn at the cost of our blood and long service, you win in

your youth; but all glory is of the same kindred," he said,
laying his hand on his Cross of Saint-Louis.

Hippolyte murmured a few words of acknowledgment, and was silent
again, satisfied to admire with growing enthusiasm the beautiful

girl's head that charmed him so much. He was soon lost in
contemplation, completely forgetting the extrememisery of the

dwelling. To him Adelaide's face stood out against a luminous
atmosphere. He replied briefly to the questions addressed to him,

which, by good luck, he heard, thanks to a singularfaculty of
the soul which sometimes seems to have a double consciousness.

Who has not known what it is to sit lost in sad or delicious
meditation, listening to its voice within, while attending to a

conversation or to reading? An admirable duality which often
helps us to tolerate a bore! Hope, prolific and smiling, poured

out before him a thousand visions of happiness; and he refused to
consider what was going on around him. As confiding as a child,

it seemed to him base to analyze a pleasure.
After a short lapse of time he perceived that the old lady and

her daughter were playing cards with the old gentleman. As to the
satellite, faithful to his function as a shadow, he stood behind

his friend's chair watching his game, and answering the player's
mute inquiries by little approving nods, repeating the

questioning gestures of the other countenance.
"Du Halga, I always lose," said the gentleman.

"You discard badly," replied the Baronne de Rouville.
"For three months now I have never won a single game," said he.

"Have you the aces?" asked the old lady.
"Yes, one more to mark," said he.

"Shall I come and advise you?" said Adelaide.
"No, no. Stay where I can see you. By Gad, it would be losing too

much not to have you to look at!"
At last the game was over. The gentleman pulled out his purse,

and, throwing two louis d'or on the table, not without temper--
"Forty francs," he exclaimed, "the exact sum.--Deuce take it! It

is eleven o'clock."
"It is eleven o'clock," repeated the silent figure, looking at

the painter.
The young man, hearing these words rather more distinctly than

all the others, thought it time to retire. Coming back to the
world of ordinary ideas, he found a few commonplace remarks to

make, took leave of the Baroness, her daughter, and the two
strangers, and went away, wholly possessed by the first raptures

of true love, without attempting to analyze the little incidents
of the evening.

On the morrow the young painter felt the most ardent desire to
see Adelaide once more. If he had followed the call of his

passion, he would have gone to his neighbor's door at six in the
morning, when he went to his studio. However, he still was

reasonable enough to wait till the afternoon. But as soon as he
thought he could present himself to Madame de Rouville, he went

downstairs, rang, blushing like a girl, shyly asked Mademoiselle
Leseigneur, who came to let him in, to let him have the portrait

of the Baron.
"But come in," said Adelaide, who had no doubt heard him come

down from the studio.
The painter followed, bashful and out of countenance, not knowing

what to say, happiness had so dulled his wit. To see Adelaide, to
hear the rustle of her skirt, after longing for a whole morning

to be near her, after starting up a hundred time--"I will go down
now"--and not to have gone; this was to him life so rich that

such sensations, too greatly prolonged, would have worn out his
spirit. The heart has the singular power of giving extraordinary

value to mere nothings. What joy it is to a traveler to treasure
a blade of grass, an unfamiliar leaf, if he has risked his life

to pluck it! It is the same with the trifles of love.
The old lady was not in the drawing-room. When the young girl

found herself there, alone with the painter, she brought a chair
to stand on, to take down the picture; but perceiving that she

could not unhook it without setting her foot on the chest of
drawers, she turned to Hippolyte, and said with a blush:

"I am not tall enough. Will you get it down?"
A feeling of modesty, betrayed in the expression of her face and

the tones of her voice, was the real motive of her request; and
the young man, understanding this, gave her one of those glances

of intelligence which are the sweetest language of love. Seeing
that the painter had read her soul, Adelaide cast down her eyes

with the instinct of reserve which is the secret of a maiden's
heart. Hippolyte, finding nothing to say, and feeling almost

timid, took down the picture, examined it gravely, carrying it to
the light of the window, and then went away, without saying a

word to Mademoiselle Leseigneur but, "I will return it soon."
During this brief moment they both went through one of those

storms of agitation of which the effects in the soul may be
compared to those of a stone flung into a deep lake. The most

delightful waves of thought rise and follow each other,
indescribable, repeated, and aimless, tossing the heart like the

circular ripples, which for a long time fret the waters, starting
from the point where the stone fell.

Hippolyte returned to the studiobearing the portrait. His easel
was ready with a fresh canvas, and his palette set, his brushes

cleaned, the spot and the light carefully chosen. And till the
dinner hour he worked at the painting with the ardor artists

throw into their whims. He went again that evening to the Baronne
de Rouville's, and remained from nine till eleven. Excepting the

different topics of conversation, this evening was exactly like
the last. The two old men arrived at the same hour, the same game

of piquet was played, the same speeches made by the players, the
sum lost by Adelaide's friend was not less considerable than on

the previous evening; only Hippolyte, a little bolder, ventured
to chat with the young girl.

A week passed thus, and in the course of it the painter's
feelings and Adelaide's underwent the slow and delightful

transformations which bring two souls to a perfect understanding.
Every day the look with which the girl welcomed her friend grew

more intimate, more confiding, gayer, and more open; her voice
and manner became more eager and more familiar. They laughed and

talked together, telling each other their thoughts, speaking of
themselves with the simplicity of two children who have made

friends in a day, as much as if they had met constantly" target="_blank" title="ad.经常地；不断地">constantly for three
years. Schinner wished to be taught piquet. Being ignorant and a

novice, he, of course, made blunder after blunder, and like the
old man, he lost almost every game. Without having spoken a word

of love the lovers knew that they were all in all to one another.
Hippolyte enjoyed exerting his power over his gentle little

friend, and many concessions were made to him by Adelaide, who,
timid and devoted to him, was quite deceived by the assumed fits

of temper, such as the least skilled lover and the most guileless
girl can affect; and which they constantly" target="_blank" title="ad.经常地；不断地">constantly play off, as spoilt

children abuse the power they owe to their mother's affection.
Thus all familiarity between the girl and the old Count was soon

put a stop to. She understood the painter's melancholy, and the
thoughts hidden in the furrows on his brow, from the abrupt tone

of the few words he spoke when the old man unceremoniously kissed
Adelaide's hands or throat.

Mademoiselle Leseigneur, on her part, soon expected her lover to
give a short account of all his actions; she was so unhappy, so

restless when Hippolyte did not come, she scolded him so
effectually for his absence, that the painter had to give up

seeing his other friends, and now went nowhere. Adelaide allowed
the natural jealousy of women to be perceived when she heard that