“Good-bye, my dear,” said Lisbeth abruptly; “we are friends for ever. I love you, I esteem you, I am wholly yours! My cousin is tormenting me to go and live in the house you are moving to, in the Rue Vanneau; but I would not go, for I saw at once the reasons for this fresh piece of kindness----” “Yes; you would have kept an eye on me, I know!” said Madame Marneffe. “That was, no doubt, the motive of his generosity,” replied Lisbeth. “In Paris, most beneficence is a speculation, as most acts of ingratitude are revenge! To a poor relation you behave as you do to rats to whom you offer a bit of bacon. Now, I will accept the Baron’s offer, for this house has grown intolerable to me. You and I have wit enough to hold our tongues about everything that would damage us, and tell all that needs telling. So, no blabbing--and we are friends.” “Through thick and thin!” cried Madame Marneffe, delighted to have a sheep-dog, a confidante, a sort of respectable aunt. “Listen to me; the Baron is doing a great deal in the Rue Vanneau----” “I believe you!” interrupted Lisbeth. “He has spent thirty thousand francs! Where he got the money, I am sure I don’t know, for Josepha the singer bled him dry.--Oh! you are in luck,” she went on. “The Baron would steal for a woman who held his heart in two little white satin hands like yours!” “Well, then,” said Madame Marneffe, with the liberality of such creatures, which is mere recklessness, “look here, my dear child; take away from here everything that may serve your turn in your new quarters--that chest of drawers, that wardrobe and mirror, the carpet, the curtains----” Lisbeth’s eyes dilated with excessive joy; she was incredulous of such a gift. “You are doing more for me in a breath than my rich relations have done in thirty years!” she exclaimed. “They have never even asked themselves whether I had any furniture at all. On his first visit, a few weeks ago, the Baron made a rich man’s face on seeing how poor I was.--Thank you, my dear; and I will give you your money’s worth, you will see how by and by.” Valerie went out on the landing with _her_ Cousin Betty, and the two women embraced. “Pouh! How she stinks of hard work!” said the pretty little woman to herself when she was alone. “I shall not embrace you often, my dear cousin! At the same time, I must look sharp. She must be skilfully managed, for she can be of use, and help me to make my fortune.”