The emotion with which old Schmucke saw the countess get into her carriage and leave him she fully shared, and she sent him from the tips of her fingers one of those pretty kisses which women give each other from afar. Receiving it, the old man stood planted on his feet for a long time after the carriage had disappeared. A few moments later the countess entered the court-yard of the hotel de Nucingen. Madame de Nucingen was not yet up; but anxious not to keep a woman of the countess’s position waiting, she hastily threw on a shawl and wrapper. “My visit concerns a charitable action, madame,” said the countess, “or I would not disturb you at so early an hour.” “But I am only too happy to be disturbed,” said the banker’s wife, taking the notes and the countess’s guarantee. She rang for her maid. “Therese,” she said, “tell the cashier to bring me up himself, immediately, forty thousand francs.” Then she locked into a table drawer the guarantee given by Madame de Vandenesse, after sealing it up. “You have a delightful room,” said the countess. “Yes, but Monsieur de Nucingen is going to take it from me. He is building a new house.” “You will doubtless give this one to your daughter, who, I am told, is to marry Monsieur de Rastignac.” The cashier appeared at this moment with the money. Madame de Nucingen took the bank-bills and gave him the notes of hand. “That balances,” she said. “Except the discount,” replied the cashier. “Ha, Schmucke; that’s the musician of Anspach,” he added, examining the signatures in a suspicious manner that made the countess tremble. “Who is doing this business?” said Madame de Nucingen, with a haughty glance at the cashier. “This is my affair.” The cashier looked alternately at the two ladies, but he could discover nothing on their impenetrable faces. “Go, leave us--Have the kindness to wait a few moments that the people in the bank may not connect you with this negotiation,” said Madame de Nucingen to the countess. “I must ask you to add to all your other kindness that of keeping this matter secret,” said Madame de Vandenesse. “Most assuredly, since it is for charity,” replied the baroness, smiling. “I will send your carriage round to the garden gate, so that no one will see you leave the house.” “You have the thoughtful grace of a person who has suffered,” said the countess. “I do not know if I have grace,” said the baroness; “but I have suffered much. I hope that your anxieties cost less than mine.”