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"For heaven's sake," said he, fervently, and pale as death, "be still; nothing perhaps is amiss; but it is the poisonous snake of our woods the aspic! An incautious movement, and both you and Petrea may be lost! No, you must not; your life is too precious but I promise me to be still, and " Elise was scarcely conscious of what she did.
The priest in his turn shuddered as he beheld Elise Rouquet cautiously slipping the tiny pieces of bread into her poor shapeless mouth. Everyone in the carriage had turned pale at sight of the awful apparition. And the same thought ascended from all those hope-inflated souls. Ah! Blessed Virgin, Powerful Virgin, what a miracle indeed if such an ill were cured!
Elise explained that Monsieur Carvin was the wreck of a genius. In his youth he had been the chosen pupil of Ingres and Hippolyte Flandrin, had won the prix de Rome, and after his three years in the Villa Medicis had come home to take up what was expected to be a brilliant career.
With an exclamation of joy the countess pressed her in her arms. "You renounce him, then?" "I have no part in him," said Elise coldly. "He belongs to you; he is bound to you by your disgrace and his crime. Go to him," cried she more violently, as she saw that the countess looked at her doubtingly. "Hasten, for he is waiting for you." "But he will recognize me; he will drive me from him."
I thought you was queen o' the kitchen!" "Kate gives me her chance, sometimes. We change about, to make things even. The best of it is in the up-stairs work, and waiting at table is the first-best chance of all. You see, you 'take it in at the pores, as the man says in the play." "Tea and oysters?" said Elise, with an exclamatory interrogation. "You know better. See here, Elise.
Elise stood quietly beside her, with her hand through Patty's arm, and together the girls silently enjoyed the sombre beauty of the scene. "Are you afraid, Patty?" asked Elise. Patty laughed a little, and then she said: "I don't know as I can make you understand it, Elise, for it sounds so ridiculous when it's put into words.
On one of the lintels of the door, as he had not noticed on the previous visit, was a narrow strip of black japanned tin, with "Madame Elise Boutell" in small bronze letters, of that back-slope writing only made by French painters, and which can only be met with, ordinarily, in the French cities or those of the adjacent German provinces.
At least, she was certain to create a sensation, as Sir Samuel proudly remarked when he walked in to get his necktie tied by me a habit he has adopted. "I wonder if I ought to trust Elise with my bag?" Lady Turnour asked him, anxiously, at last. "So far, since we've been on tour, I've carried it over my arm everywhere, but it doesn't go very well with a costume like this. What do you think?"
But if you wish to know the truth of the matter, go and dance with Elise and Rosamond, and then come back and tell me what you think of American dancing." Henri went away obediently, leaving Patty to decide among the group of partners who were begging her for a dance. Later on Henri returned.
"Judy reminds me of Garrick and ought to make the dressing, anyhow," said Molly. "You remember what Sydney Smith said of him: 'Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see, oil, vinegar, pepper, and mustard agree." "Do you know the Spanish recipe for salad dressing?" asked Elise. "'A spendthrift for oil; a niggard for vinegar; a sane man for salt and a maniac for beating it."
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