"His long martyrdom and his miracles!" echoed the countess. "You must be jesting, monsieur?" "Not at all, madame. My uncle Ramon endured the most atrocious privations during his long life, for he was pitilessly and sublimely avaricious--this was his martyrdom. At his death, I inherited his enormous wealth and conceived this prodigious work of art--these are his miracles. I have sanctified his memory by gratitude--this is his canonization. As you see, it is a veritable legend taken from the _Lives of the Saints_." Struck by the originality of the young man, Madame Zomaloff remained silent for a moment, absorbed in deep meditation; while the duke, who until then had loitered some distance behind, approached them. "My dear Florestan," he said, "I have been very eager to address you a really odd question since my arrival. Who are all these people? I recognize a few eminent artists, here and there, and a renowned architect, but none of the rest. The princess and myself have vainly searched the key to the enigma. They are all quiet and reserved, and the young girls appear very modest, while a few are really pretty; but I am anxious to learn to what class of society they belong!" "Since M. de Riancourt has the courage to ask you so indiscreet a question," broke in the countess, "I shall admit that I share his curiosity." "You have no doubt remarked," said Florestan, with a smile, "that the persons assembled here this evening do not belong to what we call the aristocracy--" "True, indeed." "Yet, madame, a few moments ago you were happy to meet the great artist who designed the dome you so much admired, were you not?" "Indeed, the meeting caused me great pleasure, I assure you." "I believe you also approve me for inviting him, as well as many of his colleagues, to the inauguration of their united work?" "The invitation certainly seemed almost a duty on your part, monsieur." "Well, madame, this duty, inspired by gratitude, I have fulfilled toward all who have contributed to the construction of this house, from the greatest artist to the most humble workman. All are here with their families, to enjoy the splendors they have created. Is it not just that the skillful and obscure man who chiseled the golden cup should moisten his lips in it, once, at least, in his life?" "What!" cried the duke in stupefaction, "these are carpenters, gilders, blacksmiths, paper-hangers, ebonists, masons!--even masons! Why, it is absurd, impossible, incredible!" "My dear duke, do you know the habits of the bees?" queried Florestan. "Very little," replied the duke stiffly. "Their habits are most savage and impertinent, my dear duke. Those insolent creatures--under the fabulous pretext that they have constructed their hives--have the impudence to inhabit them. And, what is more shocking still, they claim their right to the sweet honey on which they have so steadily and intelligently labored through the season--"