‘Content!’ exclaimed madame. ‘Who ever heard such a word? _Content!_ with papers--wall-papers, think of that, going a-begging. I know that those idiots yonder will burn the factory and save nothing. Klaus, you seraph, my own jewel!’ she cast herself on his bosom; ‘to please the mamma, though she be a stepmother in name but never one in sentiment, to please her who studies your fondest whims. You know very well,’ said she, suddenly recovering herself, ‘that I put myself out of the way only yesterday for you, that I sacrificed my own wishes to yours only yesterday. Did I not prepare veal _à l’oseille_ for your dinner, and you know in your inmost heart that I preferred it _aux petits pois_?’ Then instantly becoming indignant, she frowned, stiffened in every joint, became angular, and said, ‘ingrate!’ ‘My dear, good mother----’ ‘Now look you here,’ she interrupted; ‘we will sit together on the sofa, in the corner, and whisper together. Come along.’ She had him by the arm, and dragged him over to the seat she had indicated, and pinned him into the angle with her gown, which she spread out before her, as she subsided beside him. ‘You know, you rogue, that my wishes are law to you. Do not deny it. Think of this. I wish, I furiously desire, I burst with impatience to possess at least one of those papers. Bring enough to cover all the walls. I see it in your eyes--you are going! it mantles on your cheek, it quivers on your tongue. Oh ecstasy! oh raptures!’ she leaped from her sofa, and running to those at the window kissed them all, one after the other. ‘He has promised. This room will speedily be a bower of roses and jessamine and Brazilian humming-birds. Quick, Klaus, mein sohn!’ ‘He will not go, mother,’ said Madeleine, speaking for the first time; ‘he is too conscientious.’ ‘Conscientious!’ echoed Madame Deschwanden, covering her eyes; ‘that I should have lived to hear the word. Madeleine! he is none of us. He has that nasty German blood in his veins, and it has made him conscientious. My aunt’s sister’s son married a Hungarian, and their child was always afflicted with erysipelas. I attributed it to his Hungarian blood, poor child! But, Klaus! conquer it, and, oh! get me the angelic paper--that with the humming-birds, never mind that with the tiger and the elephant; and so compromise the matter. I declare, I declare!’ she cried, darting to the window; ‘they are casting the furniture out of the house--tables, chairs, and breaking them! To think of the expense! Ah! there goes a mirror. Madeleine, oh! if we could have secured that glass. It would have filled the space above the sideboard to perfection. If I could have seen myself in that mirror, and called it my own, I could have died singing.’ Madeleine darted out of the room, and ran downstairs. Next moment her mother and Percenez saw her in the crowd, pushing her way up to the house with resolution and success.