TranslatedbyClaraBellToSofka"Haveyouobserved，mademoiselle，thatthepaintersandsculptorsoftheMiddleAges，whentheyplacedtwofiguresinadoration，oneoneachsideofafairSaint，neverfailedtogivethemafamilylikeness？Whenyouhereseeyournameamongthosethataredeartome，andunderwhoseauspicesIplacemyworks，rememberthattouchingharmony，andyouwillseeinthisnotsomuchanactofhomageasanexpressionofthebrotherlyaffectionofyourdevotedservant，"DEBALZAC。"
　　Forsoulstowhomeffusivenessiseasythereisadelicioushourthatfallswhenitisnotyetnight，butisnolongerday；thetwilightgleamthrowssoftenedlightsortricksyreflectionsoneveryobject，andfavorsadreamymoodwhichvaguelywedsitselftotheplayoflightandshade。Thesilencewhichgenerallyprevailsatthattimemakesitparticularlydeartoartists，whogrowcontemplative，standafewpacesbackfromthepicturesonwhichtheycannolongerwork，andpassjudgementonthem，raptbythesubjectwhosemostreconditemeaningthenflashesontheinnereyeofgenius。Hewhohasneverstoodpensivebyafriend’ssideinsuchanhourofpoeticdreamingcanhardlyunderstanditsinexpressiblesoothingness。Favoredbytheclear—obscure，thematerialskillemployedbyarttoproduceillusionentirelydisappears。Iftheworkisapicture，thefiguresrepresentedseemtospeakandwalk；theshadeisshadow，thelightisday；
　　thefleshlives，eyesmove，bloodflowsintheirveins，andstuffshaveachangingsheen。Imaginationhelpstherealismofeverydetail，andonlyseesthebeautiesofthework。Atthathourillusionreignsdespotically；perhapsitwakesatnightfall！
　　Isnotillusionasortofnighttothemind，whichwepeoplewithdreams？Illusionthenunfoldsitswings，itbearsthesoulalofttotheworldoffancies，aworldfullofvoluptuousimaginings，wheretheartistforgetstherealworld，yesterdayandthemorrow，thefuture——everythingdowntoitsmiseries，thegoodandtheevilalike。
　　Atthismagichourayoungpainter，amanoftalent，whosawinartnothingbutArtitself，wasperchedonastep—ladderwhichhelpedhimtoworkatalargehighpainting，nownearlyfinished。
　　Criticisinghimself，honestlyadmiringhimself，floatingonthecurrentofhisthoughts，hethenlosthimselfinoneofthosemeditativemoodswhichravishandelevatethesoul，sootheit，andcomfortit。Hisreveriehadnodoubtlastedalongtime。
　　Nightfell。Whetherhemeanttocomedownfromhisperch，orwhetherhemadesomeill—judgedmovement，believinghimselftobeonthefloor——theeventdidnotallowofhisrememberingexactlythecauseofhisaccident——hefell，hisheadstruckafootstool，helostconsciousnessandlaymotionlessduringaspaceoftimeofwhichheknewnotthelength。
　　Asweetvoicerousedhimfromthestunnedconditionintowhichhehadsunk。Whenheopenedhiseyestheflashofabrightlightmadehimclosethemagainimmediately；butthroughthemistthatveiledhissensesheheardthewhisperingoftwowomen，andfelttwoyoung，twotimidhandsonwhichhisheadwasresting。Hesoonrecoveredconsciousness，andbythelightofanold—fashionedArgandlamphecouldmakeoutthemostcharminggirl’sfacehehadeverseen，oneofthoseheadswhichareoftensupposedtobeafreakofthebrush，butwhichtohimsuddenlyrealizedthetheoriesoftheidealbeautywhicheveryartistcreatesforhimselfandwhencehisartproceeds。Thefeaturesoftheunknownbelonged，sotosay，totherefinedanddelicatetypeofPrudhon’sschool，buthadalsothepoeticsentimentwhichGirodetgavetotheinventionsofhisphantasy。Thefreshnessofthetemples，theregulararchoftheeyebrows，thepurityofoutline，thevirginalinnocencesoplainlystampedoneveryfeatureofhercountenance，madethegirlaperfectcreature。Herfigurewasslightandgraceful，andfrailinform。Herdress，thoughsimpleandneat，revealedneitherwealthnorpenury。
　　Asherecoveredhissenses，thepaintergaveexpressiontohisadmirationbyalookofsurprise，andstammeredsomeconfusedthanks。Hefoundahandkerchiefpressedtohisforehead，andabovethesmellpeculiartoastudio，herecognizedthestrongodorofether，appliednodoubttorevivehimfromhisfaintingfit。Finallyhesawanoldwoman，lookinglikeamarquiseoftheoldschool，whoheldthelampandwasadvisingtheyounggirl。
　　"Monsieur，"saidtheyoungerwomaninreplytooneofthequestionsputbythepainterduringthefewminuteswhenhewasstillundertheinfluenceofthevaguenessthattheshockhadproducedinhisideas，"mymotherandIheardthenoiseofyourfallonthefloor，andwefanciedweheardagroan。Thesilencefollowingonthecrashalarmedus，andwehurriedup。Findingthekeyinthelatch，wehappilytookthelibertyofentering，andwefoundyoulyingmotionlessontheground。Mymotherwenttofetchwhatwasneededtobatheyourheadandreviveyou。Youhavecutyourforehead——there。Doyoufeelit？"
　　"Yes，Idonow，"hereplied。
　　"Oh，itwillbenothing，"saidtheoldmother。"Happilyyourheadrestedagainstthislay—figure。"
　　"Ifeelinfinitelybetter，"repliedthepainter。"Ineednothingfurtherbutahackneycabtotakemehome。Theporter’swifewillgoforone。"
　　Hetriedtorepeathisthankstothetwostrangers；butateachsentencetheelderladyinterruptedhim，saying，"Tomorrow，monsieur，praybecarefultoputonleeches，ortobebled，anddrinkafewcupsofsomethinghealing。Afallmaybedangerous。"
　　Theyounggirlstolealookatthepainterandatthepicturesinthestudio。Herexpressionandherglancesrevealedperfectpropriety；hercuriosityseemedratherabsenceofmind，andhereyesseemedtospeaktheinterestwhichwomenfeel，withthemostengagingspontaneity，ineverythingwhichcausesussuffering。
　　Thetwostrangersseemedtoforgetthepainter’sworksinthepainter’smishap。Whenhehadreassuredthemastohisconditiontheyleft，lookingathimwithananxietythatwasequallyfreefrominsistenceandfromfamiliarity，withoutaskinganyindiscreetquestions，ortryingtoincitehimtoanywishtovisitthem。Theirproceedingsallborethehall—markofnaturalrefinementandgoodtaste。Theirnobleandsimplemannersatfirstmadenogreatimpressiononthepainter，butsubsequently，asherecalledallthedetailsoftheincident，hewasgreatlystruckbythem。
　　Whentheyreachedthefloorbeneaththatoccupiedbythepainter’sstudio，theoldladygentlyobserved，"Adelaide，youleftthedooropen。"
　　"Thatwastocometomyassistance，"saidthepainter，withagratefulsmile。
　　"Youcamedownjustnow，mother，"repliedtheyounggirl，withablush。
　　"Wouldyoulikeustoaccompanyyouallthewaydownstairs？"
　　askedthemother。"Thestairsaredark。"
　　"No，thankyou，indeed，madame；Iammuchbetter。"
　　"Holdtightlybytherail。"
　　Thetwowomenremainedonthelandingtolighttheyoungman，listeningtothesoundofhissteps。
　　Inordertosetforthclearlyalltheexcitingandunexpectedinterestthisscenemighthavefortheyoungpainter，itmustbetoldthathehadonlyafewdayssinceestablishedhisstudiointheatticsofthishouse，situatedinthedarkestand，therefore，themostmuddypartoftheRuedeSuresnes，almostoppositetheChurchoftheMadeleine，andquiteclosetohisroomsintheRuedesChamps—Elysees。Thefamehistalenthadwonhimhavingmadehimoneoftheartistsmostdeartohiscountry，hewasbeginningtofeelfreefromwant，andtousehisownexpression，wasenjoyinghislastprivations。Insteadofgoingtohisworkinoneofthestudiosnearthecitygates，wherethemoderaterentshadhithertobeeninproportiontohishumbleearnings，hehadgratifiedawishthatwasneweverymorning，bysparinghimselfalongwalk，andthelossofmuchtime，nowmorevaluablethanever。
　　NomanintheworldwouldhaveinspiredfeelingsofgreaterinterestthanHippolyteSchinnerifhewouldeverhaveconsentedtomakeacquaintance；buthedidnotlightlyentrusttoothersthesecretsofhislife。Hewastheidolofanecessitousmother，whohadbroughthimupatthecostoftheseverestprivations。
　　MademoiselleSchinner，thedaughterofanAlsatianfarmer，hadneverbeenmarried。Hertendersoulhadbeencruellycrushed，longago，byarichman，whodidnotpridehimselfonanygreatdelicacyinhisloveaffairs。Thedaywhen，asayounggirl，inalltheradianceofherbeautyandallthetriumphofherlife，shesuffered，atthecostofherheartandhersweetillusions，thedisenchantmentwhichfallsonussoslowlyandyetsoquickly——forwetrytopostponeaslongaspossibleourbeliefinevil，anditseemstocometoosoon——thatdaywasawholeageofreflection，anditwasalsoadayofreligiousthoughtandresignation。Sherefusedthealmsofthemanwhohadbetrayedher，renouncedtheworld，andmadeagloryofhershame。Shegaveherselfupentirelytohermotherlylove，seekinginitallherjoysinexchangeforthesocialpleasurestowhichshebidfarewell。Shelivedbywork，savingupatreasureforherson。
　　And，inafteryears，aday，anhourrepaidheramplyforthelongandwearysacrificesofherindigence。
　　AtthelastexhibitionhersonhadreceivedtheCrossoftheLegionofHonor。Thenewspapers，unanimousinhailinganunknowngenius，stillrangwithsincerepraises。ArtiststhemselvesacknowledgedSchinnerasamaster，anddealerscoveredhiscanvaseswithgoldpieces。Atfive—and—twentyHippolyteSchinner，towhomhismotherhadtransmittedherwoman’ssoul，understoodmoreclearlythaneverhispositionintheworld。Anxioustorestoretohismotherthepleasuresofwhichsocietyhadsolongrobbedher，helivedforher，hopingbytheaidoffameandfortunetoseeheronedayhappy，rich，respected，andsurroundedbymenofmark。Schinnerhadthereforechosenhisfriendsamongthemosthonorableanddistinguishedmen。Fastidiousintheselectionofhisintimates，hedesiredtoraisestillfurtherapositionwhichhistalenthadplacedhigh。Theworktowhichhehaddevotedhimselffromboyhood，bycompellinghimtodwellinsolitude——themotherofgreatthoughts——hadlefthimthebeautifulbeliefswhichgracetheearlydaysoflife。Hisadolescentsoulwasnotclosedtoanyofthethousandbashfulemotionsbywhichayoungmanisabeingapart，whoseheartaboundsinjoys，inpoetry，invirginalhopes，puerileintheeyesofmenoftheworld，butdeepbecausetheyaresingle—
　　hearted。
　　Hewasendowedwiththegentleandpolitemannerswhichspeaktothesoul，andfascinateeventhosewhodonotunderstandthem。Hewaswellmade。Hisvoice，comingfromhisheart，stirredthatofotherstonoblesentiments，andborewitnesstohistruemodestybyacertainingenuousnessoftone。Thosewhosawhimfeltdrawntohimbythatattractionofthemoralnaturewhichmenofsciencearehappilyunabletoanalyze；theywoulddetectinitsomephenomenonofgalvanism，orthecurrentofIknownotwhatfluid，andexpressoursentimentsinaformulaofratiosofoxygenandelectricity。
　　Thesedetailswillperhapsexplaintostrong—mindedpersonsandtomenoffashionwhy，intheabsenceoftheporterwhomhehadsenttotheendoftheRuedelaMadeleinetocallhimacoach，HippolyteSchinnerdidnotasktheman’swifeanyquestionsconcerningthetwowomenwhosekindnessofhearthadshownitselfinhisbehalf。ButthoughherepliedYesorNototheinquiries，naturalunderthecircumstances，whichthegoodwomanmadeastohisaccident，andthefriendlyinterventionofthetenantsoccupyingthefourthfloor，hecouldnothinderherfromfollowingtheinstinctofherkind；shementionedthetwostrangers，speakingofthemaspromptedbytheinterestsofherpolicyandthesubterraneanopinionsoftheporter’slodge。
　　"Ah，"saidshe，"theywere，nodoubt，MademoiselleLeseigneurandhermother，whohavelivedherethesefouryears。Wedonotknowexactlywhattheseladiesdo；inthemorning，onlytillthehourofnoon，anoldwomanwhoishalfdeaf，andwhoneverspeaksanymorethanawall，comesintohelpthem；intheevening，twoorthreeoldgentlemen，withloopsofribbon，likeyou，monsieur，cometoseethem，andoftenstayverylate。Oneofthemcomesinacarriagewithservants，andissaidtohavesixtythousandfrancsayear。However，theyareveryquiettenants，asyouare，monsieur；andeconomical！theyliveonnothing，andassoonasaletterisbroughttheypayforit。Itisaqueerthing，monsieur，themother’snameisnotthesameasthedaughter’s。Ah，butwhentheygoforawalkintheTuileries，mademoiselleisverysmart，andshenevergoesoutbutsheisfollowedbyalotofyoungmen；
　　butsheshutsthedoorintheirface，andsheisquiteright。Theproprietorwouldneverallow————"
　　Thecoachhavingcome，Hippolyteheardnomore，andwenthome。
　　Hismother，towhomherelatedhisadventure，dressedhiswoundafresh，andwouldnotallowhimtogotothestudionextday。
　　Aftertakingadvice，varioustreatmentswereprescribed，andHippolyteremainedathomethreedays。Duringthisretirementhisidlefancyrecalledvividly，bitbybit，thedetailsofthescenethathadensuedonhisfaintingfit。Theyounggirl’sprofilewasclearlyprojectedagainstthedarknessofhisinwardvision；hesawoncemorethemother’sfadedfeatures，orhefeltthetouchofAdelaide’shands。Herememberedsomegesturewhichatfirsthadnotgreatlystruckhim，butwhoseexquisitegracewasthrownintoreliefbymemory；thenanattitude，orthetonesofamelodiousvoice，enhancedbythedistanceofremembrance，suddenlyrosebeforehim，asobjectsplungingtothebottomofdeepwaterscomebacktothesurface。
　　So，onthedaywhenhecouldresumework，hewentearlytohisstudio；butthevisitheundoubtedlyhadarighttopaytohisneighborswasthetruecauseofhishaste；hehadalreadyforgottenthepictureshehadbegun。Atthemomentwhenapassionthrowsoffitsswaddlingclothes，inexplicablepleasuresarefelt，knowntothosewhohaveloved。Sosomereaderswillunderstandwhythepaintermountedthestairstothefourthfloorbutslowly，andwillbeinthesecretofthethrobsthatfollowedeachothersorapidlyinhisheartatthemomentwhenhesawthehumblebrowndooroftheroomsinhabitedbyMademoiselleLeseigneur。Thisgirl，whosenamewasnotthesameashermother’s，hadarousedtheyoungpainter’sdeepestsympathies；hechosetofancysomesimilaritybetweenhimselfandherastotheirposition，andattributedtohermisfortunesofbirthakintohisown。AllthetimeheworkedHippolytegavehimselfverywillinglytothoughtsoflove，andmadeagreatdealofnoisetocompelthetwoladiestothinkofhim，ashewasthinkingofthem。Hestayedlateatthestudioanddinedthere；then，ataboutseveno’clock，hewentdowntocallonhisneighbors。
　　Nopainterofmannershasventuredtoinitiateus——perhapsoutofmodesty——intothereallycuriousprivacyofcertainParisianexistences，intothesecretofthedwellingswhenceemergesuchfreshandeleganttoilets，suchbrilliantwomen，whorichonthesurface，allowthesignsofverydoubtfulcomforttopeepoutineverypartoftheirhome。If，here，thepictureistooboldlydrawn，ifyoufindittediousinplaces，donotblamethedescription，whichis，indeed，partandparcelofmystory；fortheappearanceoftheroomsinhabitedbyhistwoneighborshadagreatinfluenceonthefeelingsandhopesofHippolyteSchinner。
　　Thehousebelongedtooneofthoseproprietorsinwhomthereisaforegoneandprofoundhorrorofrepairsanddecoration，oneofthemenwhoregardtheirpositionasParishouse—ownersasabusiness。Inthevastchainofmoralspecies，thesepeopleholdamiddleplacebetweenthemiserandtheusurer。Optimistsintheirowninterests，theyareallfaithfultotheAustrianstatusquo。
　　Ifyouspeakofmovingacupboardoradoor，ofopeningthemostindispensableair—hole，theireyesflash，theirbilerises，theyrearlikeafrightenedhorse。Whenthewindblowsdownafewchimney—potstheyarequiteill，anddeprivethemselvesofaneveningattheGymnaseorthePorte—Saint—MartinTheatre，"onaccountofrepairs。"Hippolyte，whohadseentheperformancegratisofacomicalscenewithMonsieurMolineuxasconcerningcertaindecorativerepairsinhisstudio，wasnotsurprisedtoseethedarkgreasypaint，theoilystains，spots，andotherdisagreeableaccessoriesthatvariedthewoodwork。Andthesestigmataofpovertyarenotaltogetherdevoidofpoetryinanartist’seyes。
　　MademoiselleLeseigneurherselfopenedthedoor。Onrecognizingtheyoungartistshebowed，andatthesametime，withParisianadroitness，andwiththepresenceofmindthatpridecanlend，sheturnedroundtoshutthedoorinaglasspartitionthroughwhichHippolytemighthavecaughtsightofsomelinenhungbylinesoverpatentironingstoves，anoldcamp—bed，somewood—
　　embers，charcoal，irons，afilter，thehouseholdcrockery，andalltheutensilsfamiliartoasmallhousehold。Muslincurtains，fairlywhite，carefullyscreenedthislumber—room——acapharnaum，astheFrenchcallsuchadomesticlaboratory，——whichwaslightedbywindowslookingoutonaneighboringyard。
　　Hippolyte，withthequickeyeofanartist，sawtheuses，thefurniture，thegeneraleffectandconditionofthisfirstroom，thuscutinhalf。Themorehonorablehalf，whichservedbothasante—roomanddining—room，washungwithanoldsalmon—rose—
　　coloredpaper，withaflockborder，themanufactureofReveillon，nodoubt；theholesandspotshadbeencarefullytouchedoverwithwafers。PrintsrepresentingthebattlesofAlexander，byLebrun，inframeswiththegildingrubbedoffweresymmetricallyarrangedonthewalls。Inthemiddlestoodamassivemahoganytable，old—fashionedinshape，andwornattheedges。Asmallstove，whosethinstraightpipewasscarcelyvisible，stoodinfrontofthechimney—place，butthehearthwasoccupiedbyacupboard。Byastrangecontrastthechairsshowedsomeremainsofformersplendor；theywereofcarvedmahogany，buttheredmoroccoseats，thegiltnailsandreededbacks，showedasmanyscarsasanoldsergeantoftheImperialGuard。
　　Thisroomdiddutyasamuseumofcertainobjects，suchasareneverseenbutinthiskindofamphibioushousehold；namelessobjectswiththestampatonceofluxuryandpenury。AmongothercuriositiesHippolytenoticedasplendidlyfinishedtelescope，hangingoverthesmalldiscoloredglassthatdecoratedthechimney。Toharmonizewiththisstrangecollectionoffurniture，therewas，betweenthechimneyandthepartition，awretchedsideboardofpaintedwood，pretendingtobemahogany，ofallwoodsthemostimpossibletoimitate。Buttheslipperyredquarries，theshabbylittlerugsinfrontofthechairs，andallthefurniture，shonewiththehardrubbingcleanlinesswhichlendsatreacherouslustretooldthingsbymakingtheirdefects，theirage，andtheirlongservicestillmoreconspicuous。Anindescribableodorpervadedtheroom，amingledsmelloftheexhalationsfromthelumberroom，andthevaporsofthedining—
　　room，withthosefromthestairs，thoughthewindowwaspartlyopen。Theairfromthestreetflutteredthedustycurtains，whichwerecarefullydrawnsoastohidethewindowbay，whereformertenantshadtestifiedtotheirpresencebyvariousornamentaladditions——asortofdomesticfresco。
　　Adelaidehastenedtoopenthedooroftheinnerroom，wheresheannouncedthepainterwithevidentpleasure。Hippolyte，who，ofyore，hadseenthesamesignsofpovertyinhismother’shome，notedthemwiththesingularvividnessofimpressionwhichcharacterizestheearliestacquisitionsofmemory，andenteredintothedetailsofthisexistencebetterthananyoneelsewouldhavedone。Asherecognizedthefactsofhislifeasachild，thekindyoungfellowfeltneitherscornfordisguisedmisfortunenorprideintheluxuryhehadlatelyconqueredforhismother。
　　"Well，monsieur，Ihopeyounolongerfeeltheeffectsofyourfall，"saidtheoldlady，risingfromanantiquearmchairthatstoodbythechimney，andofferinghimaseat。
　　"No，madame。Ihavecometothankyouforthekindcareyougaveme，andaboveallmademoiselle，whoheardmefall。"
　　Asheutteredthisspeech，stampedwiththeexquisitestupiditygiventothemindbythefirstdisturbingsymptomsoftruelove，Hippolytelookedattheyounggirl。AdelaidewaslightingtheArgandlamp，nodoubtthatshemightgetridofatallowcandlefixedinalargecopperflatcandlestick，andgracedwithaheavyflutingofgreasefromitsguttering。Sheansweredwithaslightbow，carriedtheflatcandlestickintotheante—room，cameback，andafterplacingthelamponthechimneyshelf，seatedherselfbyhermother，alittlebehindthepainter，soastobeabletolookathimatherease，whileapparentlymuchinterestedintheburningofthelamp；theflame，checkedbythedampinadingychimney，sputteredasitstruggledwithacharredandbadly—
　　trimmedwick。Hippolyte，seeingthelargemirrorthatdecoratedthechimney—piece，immediatelyfixedhiseyesonittoadmireAdelaide。Thusthegirl’slittlestratagemonlyservedtoembarrassthemboth。
　　WhiletalkingwithMadameLeseigneur，forHippolytecalledherso，onthechanceofbeingright，heexaminedtheroom，butunobtrusivelyandbystealth。
　　TheEgyptianfiguresontheironfire—dogswerescarcelyvisible，thehearthwassoheapedwithcinders；twobrandstriedtomeetinfrontofashamlogoffire—brick，ascarefullyburiedasamiser’streasurecouldeverbe。AnoldAubussoncarpet，verymuchfaded，verymuchmended，andaswornasapensioner’scoat，didnotcoverthewholeofthetiledfloor，andthecoldstrucktohisfeet。Thewallswerehungwithareddishpaper，imitatingfiguredsilkwithayellowpattern。Inthemiddleofthewalloppositethewindowsthepaintersawacrack，andtheoutlinemarkedonthepaperofdouble—doors，shuttingoffarecesswhereMadameLeseigneursleptnodoubt，afactilldisguisedbyasofainfrontofthedoor。Facingthechimney，aboveamahoganychestofdrawersofhandsomeandtastefuldesign，wastheportraitofanofficerofrank，whichthedimlightdidnotallowhimtoseewell；butfromwhathecouldmakeouthethoughtthatthefearfuldaubmusthavebeenpaintedinChina。Thewindow—curtainsofredsilkwereasmuchfadedasthefurniture，inredandyellowworstedwork，[as]ifthisroom"contrivedadoubledebttopay。"
　　Onthemarbletopofthechestofdrawerswasacostlymalachitetray，withadozencoffeecupsmagnificentlypaintedandmade，nodoubt，atSevres。OnthechimneyshelfstoodtheomnipresentEmpireclock：awarriordrivingthefourhorsesofachariot，whosewheelborethenumbersofthehoursonitsspokes。Thetapersinthetallcandlestickswereyellowwithsmoke，andateachcorneroftheshelfstoodaporcelainvasecrownedwithartificialflowersfullofdustandstuckintomoss。
　　InthemiddleoftheroomHippolyteremarkedacard—tablereadyforplay，withnewpacksofcards。Foranobservertherewassomethingheartrendinginthesightofthismiserypainteduplikeanoldwomanwhowantstofalsifyherface。Atsuchasighteverymanofsensemustatoncehavestatedtohimselfthisobviousdilemma——eitherthesetwowomenarehonestyitself，ortheylivebyintrigueandgambling。ButonlookingatAdelaide，amansopure—mindedasSchinnercouldnotbutbelieveinherperfectinnocence，andascribetheincoherenceofthefurnituretohonorablecauses。
　　"Mydear，"saidtheoldladytotheyoungone，"Iamcold；makealittlefire，andgivememyshawl。"
　　Adelaidewentintoaroomnextthedrawing—room，whereshenodoubtslept，andreturnedbringinghermotheracashmereshawl，whichwhennewmusthavebeenverycostly；thepatternwasIndian；butitwasold，fadedandfullofdarns，andmatchedthefurniture。MadameLeseigneurwrappedherselfinitveryartistically，andwiththereadinessofanoldwomanwhowishestomakeherwordsseemtruth。Theyounggirlranlightlyofftothelumber—roomandreappearedwithabundleofsmallwood，whichshegallantlythrewonthefiretoreviveit。
　　Itwouldberatherdifficulttoreproducetheconversationwhichfollowedamongthesethreepersons。Hippolyte，guidedbythetactwhichisalmostalwaystheoutcomeofmisfortunesufferedinearlyyouth，darednotallowhimselftomaketheleastremarkastohisneighbors’situation，ashesawallabouthimthesignsofill—disguisedpoverty。Thesimplestquestionwouldhavebeenanindiscretion，andcouldonlybeventuredonbyoldfriendship。
　　Thepainterwasneverthelessabsorbedinthethoughtofthisconcealedpenury，itpainedhisgeneroussoul；butknowinghowoffensiveeverykindofpitymaybe，eventhefriendliest，thedisparitybetweenhisthoughtsandhiswordsmadehimfeeluncomfortable。
　　Thetwoladiesatfirsttalkedofpainting，forwomeneasilyguessthesecretembarrassmentofafirstcall；theythemselvesfeelitperhaps，andthenatureoftheirmindsuppliesthemwithathousanddevicestoputanendtoit。Byquestioningtheyoungmanastothematerialexerciseofhisart，andastohisstudies，Adelaideandhermotheremboldenedhimtotalk。Theindefinablenothingsoftheirchat，animatedbykindfeeling，naturallyledHippolytetoflashforthremarksorreflectionswhichshowedthecharacterofhishabitsandofhismind。Troublehadprematurelyfadedtheoldlady’sface，formerlyhandsome，nodoubt；nothingwasleftbutthemoreprominentfeatures，theoutline，inaword，theskeletonofacountenanceofwhichthewholeeffectindicatedgreatshrewdnesswithmuchgraceintheplayoftheeyes，inwhichcouldbediscernedtheexpressionpeculiartowomenoftheoldCourt；anexpressionthatcannotbedefinedinwords。Thosefineandmobilefeaturesmightquiteaswellindicatebadfeelings，andsuggestastutenessandwomanlyartificecarriedtoahighpitchofwickedness，asrevealtherefineddelicacyofabeautifulsoul。
　　Indeed，thefaceofawomanhasthiselementofmysterytopuzzletheordinaryobserver，thatthedifferencebetweenfranknessandduplicity，thegeniusforintrigueandthegeniusoftheheart，isthereinscrutable。Amangiftedwiththepenetratingeyecanreadtheintangibleshadeofdifferenceproducedbyamoreorlesscurvedline，amoreorlessdeepdimple，amoreorlessprominentfeature。Theappreciationoftheseindicationsliesentirelyinthedomainofintuition；thisalonecanleadtothediscoveryofwhateveryoneisinterestedinconcealing。Theoldlady’sfacewasliketheroomsheinhabited；itseemedasdifficulttodetectwhetherthissqualorcoveredviceorthehighestvirtue，astodecidewhetherAdelaide’smotherwasanoldcoquetteaccustomedtoweigh，tocalculate，toselleverything，oralovingwoman，fullofnoblefeelingandamiablequalities。
　　ButatSchinner’sagethefirstimpulseoftheheartistobelieveingoodness。Andindeed，ashestudiedAdelaide’snobleandalmosthaughtybrow，ashelookedintohereyesfullofsoulandthought，hebreathed，sotospeak，thesweetandmodestfragranceofvirtue。Inthecourseoftheconversationheseizedanopportunityofdiscussingportraitsingeneral，togivehimselfapretextforexaminingthefrightfulpastel，ofwhichthecolorhadflown，andthechalkinmanyplacesfallenaway。
　　"Youareattachedtothatpictureforthesakeofthelikeness，nodoubt，mesdames，forthedrawingisdreadful？"hesaid，lookingatAdelaide。
　　"ItwasdoneatCalcutta，ingreathaste，"repliedthemotherinanagitatedvoice。
　　Shegazedattheformlesssketchwiththedeepabsorptionwhichmemoriesofhappinessproducewhentheyarerousedandfallontheheartlikeabeneficentdewtowhoserefreshingtouchwelovetoyieldourselvesup；butintheexpressionoftheoldlady’sfacethereweretracestooofperennialregret。Atleast，itwasthusthatthepainterchosetointerpretherattitudeandcountenance，andhepresentlysatdownagainbyherside。
　　"Madame，"hesaid，"inaveryshorttimethecolorsofthatpastelwillhavedisappeared。Theportraitwillonlysurviveinyourmemory。Whereyouwillstillseethefacethatisdeartoyou，otherswillseenothingatall。Willyouallowmetoreproducethelikenessoncanvas？Itwillbemorepermanentlyrecordedthenthanonthatsheetofpaper。Grantme，Ibeg，asaneighborlyfavor，thepleasureofdoingyouthisservice。Therearetimeswhenanartistisgladofarespitefromhisgreaterundertakingsbydoingworkoflessloftypretensions，soitwillbearecreationformetopaintthathead。"
　　Theoldladyflushedassheheardthepainter’swords，andAdelaideshotoneofthoseglancesofdeepfeelingwhichseemtoflashfromthesoul。Hippolytewantedtofeelsometielinkinghimwithhistwoneighbors，toconquerarighttomingleintheirlife。Hisoffer，appealingasitdidtotheliveliestaffectionsoftheheart，wastheonlyonehecouldpossiblymake；itgratifiedhisprideasanartist，andcouldnothurtthefeelingsoftheladies。MadameLeseigneuraccepted，withouteagernessorreluctance，butwiththeself—possessionofanoblesoul，fullyawareofthecharacterofbondsformedbysuchanobligation，while，atthesametime，theyareitshighestgloryasaproofofesteem。
　　"Ifancy，"saidthepainter，"thattheuniformisthatofanavalofficer。"
　　Yes，"shesaid，"thatofacaptainincommandofavessel。
　　MonsieurdeRouville——myhusband——diedatBataviainconsequenceofawoundreceivedinafightwithanEnglishshiptheyfellinwithofftheAsiaticcoast。Hecommandedafrigateoffifty—sixgunsandtheRevengecarriedninety—six。Thestrugglewasveryunequal，buthedefendedhisshipsobravelythatheheldouttillnightfallandgotaway。WhenIcamebacktoFranceBonapartewasnotyetinpower，andIwasrefusedapension。WhenIappliedagainforit，quitelately，IwassternlyinformedthatiftheBarondeRouvillehademigratedIshouldnothavelosthim；thatbythistimehewouldhavebeenarear—admiral；finally，hisExcellencyquotedIknownotwhatdegreeofforfeiture。Itookthisstep，towhichIwasurgedbymyfriends，onlyforthesakeofmypoorAdelaide。Ihavealwayshatedtheideaofholdingoutmyhandasabeggarinthenameofagriefwhichdeprivesawomanofvoiceandstrength。Idonotlikethismoneyvaluationforbloodirreparablyspilt————"
　　"Dearmother，thissubjectalwaysdoesyouharm。"
　　InresponsetothisremarkfromAdelaide，theBaronneLeseigneurbowed，andwassilent。
　　"Monsieur，"saidtheyounggirltoHippolyte，"Ihadsupposedthatapainter’sworkwasgenerallyfairlyquiet？"
　　AtthisquestionSchinnercolored，rememberingthenoisehehadmade。Adelaidesaidnomore，andsparedhimafalsehoodbyrisingatthesoundofacarriagestoppingatthedoor。Shewentintoherownroom，andreturnedcarryingapairoftallgiltcandlestickswithpartlyburntwaxcandles，whichshequicklylighted，andwithoutwaitingforthebelltoring，sheopenedthedooroftheouterroom，whereshesetthelampdown。ThesoundofakissgivenandreceivedfoundanechoinHippolyte’sheart。Theyoungman’simpatiencetoseethemanwhotreatedAdelaidewithsomuchfamiliaritywasnotimmediatelygratified；thenewcomershadaconversation，whichhethoughtverylong，inanundertone，withtheyounggirl。
　　AtlastMademoiselledeRouvillereturned，followedbytwomen，whosecostume，countenance，andappearancearealongstory。
　　Thefirst，amanofaboutsixty，woreoneofthecoatsinvented，Ibelieve，forLouisXVIII。，thenonthethrone，inwhichthemostdifficultproblemofthesartorialarthadbeensolvedbyatailorwhooughttobeimmortal。Thatartistcertainlyunderstoodtheartofcompromise，whichwasthemovinggeniusofthatperiodofshiftingpolitics。Isitnotararemerittobeabletotakethemeasureofthetime？Thiscoat，whichtheyoungmenofthepresentdaymayconceivetobefabulous，wasneithercivilnormilitary，andmightpassforcivilormilitarybyturns。Fleurs—
　　de—liswereembroideredonthelapelsofthebackskirts。Thegiltbuttonsalsoborefleurs—de—lis；ontheshouldersapairofstrapscriedoutforuselessepaulettes；thesemilitaryappendagesweretherelikeapetitionwithoutarecommendation。
　　Thisoldgentleman’scoatwasofdarkbluecloth，andthebuttonholehadblossomedintomanycoloredribbons。He，nodoubt，alwayscarriedhishatinhishand——athreecorneredcockedhat，withagoldcord——forthesnowywingsofhispowderedhairshowednotatraceofitspressure。Hemighthavebeentakenfornotmorethanfiftyyearsofage，andseemedtoenjoyrobusthealth。
　　Whilewearingthefrankandloyalexpressionoftheoldemigres，hiscountenancealsohintedattheeasyhabitsofalibertine，atthelightandrecklesspassionsoftheMusketeersformerlysofamousintheannalsofgallantry。Hisgestures，hisattitude，andhismannerproclaimedthathehadnointentionofcorrectinghimselfofhisroyalism，ofhisreligion，orofhisloveaffairs。
　　Areallyfantasticfigurecameinbehindthisspecimenof"LouisXIV。’slightinfantry"——anicknamegivenbytheBonapartiststothesevenerablesurvivorsoftheMonarchy。Todoitjusticeitoughttobemadetheprincipalobjectinthepicture，anditisbutanaccessory。Imaginealean，dryman，dressedliketheformer，butseemingtobeonlyhisreflection，orhisshadow，ifyouwill。Thecoat，newonthefirst，onthesecondwasold；thepowderinhishairlookedlesswhite，thegoldofthefleurs—de—
　　lislessbright，theshoulderstrapsmorehopelessanddog’seared；hisintellectseemedmorefeeble，hislifenearerthefataltermthanintheformer。Inshort，herealizedRivarol’switticismonChampcenetz，"Heisthemoonlightofme。"Hewassimplyhisdouble，apalerandpoorerdouble，fortherewasbetweenthemallthedifferencethatliesbetweenthefirstandlastimpressionsofalithograph。
　　Thisspeechlessoldmanwasamysterytothepainter，andalwaysremainedamystery。TheChevalier，forhewasaChevalier，didnotspeak，nobodyspoketohim。Washeafriend，apoorrelation，amanwhofollowedattheoldgallant’sheelsasaladycompaniondoesatanoldlady’s？Didhefillaplacemidwaybetweenadog，aparrot，andafriend？Hadhesavedhispatron’sfortune，oronlyhislife？WashetheTrimtoanotherCaptainToby？
　　Elsewhere，asattheBaronnedeRouville’s，healwayspiquedcuriositywithoutsatisfyingit。Who，aftertheRestoration，couldremembertheattachmentwhich，beforetheRevolution，hadboundthismantohisfriend’swife，deadnowthesetwentyyear？