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The paradise of Madame Marneffe and Wenceslas was not at all like that of Crevel who, finding it useless now, had just sold his to the Comte Maxime de Trailles. This paradise, the paradise of all comers, consisted of a room on the fourth floor opening to the landing, in a house close to the Italian Opera.
Marneffe, who hoped to get Coquet's place, was to entertain him and the virtuous Madame Coquet, and Valerie hoped to persuade Hulot, that very evening, to consider the head-clerk's resignation. Lisbeth dressed to go to the Baroness, with whom she was to dine. "You will come back in time to make tea for us, my Betty?" said Valerie. "I hope so." "You hope so why?
This was the beginning of the end of the beautiful Madame Hulot's home; and, it may be added, of her being totally neglected, as Hulot had solemnly promised Madame Marneffe.
Marneffe meanwhile showed a blind confidence in his chief, which degenerated into ridiculous complaisance. The only person whom he really would not stand was Crevel. Marneffe, wrecked by the debauchery of great cities, described by Roman authors, though modern decency has no name for it, was as hideous as an anatomical figure in wax.
"Well, then," said Madame Marneffe, with a breath of relief, "if you only love him in that way, you will be very happy for you wish him to be happy?" Lisbeth replied by a nod as hasty as a madwoman's. "He is to marry your Cousin Hortense in a month's time." "Hortense!" shrieked the old maid, striking her forehead, and starting to her feet.
At a moment in the course of the day when Lisbeth and Wenceslas were left together, the artist agreed to go on the morrow to see Madame Marneffe he either would win his wife's consent, or he would go without telling her.
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.
Hulot wondered to himself without heeding Crevel. "It is sheer folly in us to expect to be loved, my dear fellow," said Crevel. "We can only be endured; for Madame Marneffe is a hundred times more profligate than Josepha." "And avaricious! she costs me a hundred and ninety-two thousand francs a year!" cried Hulot.
Also, it must be said that Madame Marneffe offered to Crevel a refinement of pleasure of which he had no idea; neither Josepha nor Heloise had loved him; and Madame Marneffe thought it necessary to deceive him thoroughly, for this man, she saw, would prove an inexhaustible till. The deceptions of a venal passion are more delightful than the real thing.
Look here, I understand all about it; you shall have your mistresses; pretty ones too, like that little Marneffe woman who wants to see you, and who will give you happiness you could never find with me. Then, when I have saved you thirty thousand francs a year in the funds " "Mademoiselle, you are an angel, and I shall never forget this hour," said Wenceslas, wiping away his tears.
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