“Be calm, my dear child.” “Valerie, my darling, I will be calm,” said the strange creature, sitting down again. “One thing only can restore me to reason; give me proofs.” “Your Cousin Hortense has the _Samson_ group--here is a lithograph from it published in a review. She paid for it out of her pocket-money, and it is the Baron who, to benefit his future son-in-law, is pushing him, getting everything for him.” “Water!--water!” said Lisbeth, after glancing at the print, below which she read, “A group belonging to Mademoiselle Hulot d’Ervy.” “Water! my head is burning, I am going mad!” Madame Marneffe fetched some water. Lisbeth took off her cap, unfastened her black hair, and plunged her head into the basin her new friend held for her. She dipped her forehead into it several times, and checked the incipient inflammation. After this douche she completely recovered her self-command. “Not a word,” said she to Madame Marneffe as she wiped her face--“not a word of all this.--You see, I am quite calm; everything is forgotten. I am thinking of something very different.” “She will be in Charenton to-morrow, that is very certain,” thought Madame Marneffe, looking at the old maid. “What is to be done?” Lisbeth went on. “You see, my angel, there is nothing for it but to hold my tongue, bow my head, and drift to the grave, as all water runs to the river. What could I try to do? I should like to grind them all--Adeline, her daughter, and the Baron--all to dust! But what can a poor relation do against a rich family? It would be the story of the earthen pot and the iron pot.” “Yes; you are right,” said Valerie. “You can only pull as much hay as you can to your side of the manger. That is all the upshot of life in Paris.” “Besides,” said Lisbeth, “I shall soon die, I can tell you, if I lose that boy to whom I fancied I could always be a mother, and with whom I counted on living all my days----” There were tears in her eyes, and she paused. Such emotion in this woman made of sulphur and flame, made Valerie shudder. “Well, at any rate, I have found you,” said Lisbeth, taking Valerie’s hand, “that is some consolation in this dreadful trouble.--We shall be true friends; and why should we ever part? I shall never cross your track. No one will ever be in love with me!--Those who would have married me, would only have done it to secure my Cousin Hulot’s interest. With energy enough to scale Paradise, to have to devote it to procuring bread and water, a few rags, and a garret!--That is martyrdom, my dear, and I have withered under it.” She broke off suddenly, and shot a black flash into Madame Marneffe’s blue eyes, a glance that pierced the pretty woman’s soul, as the point of a dagger might have pierced her heart.