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In point of fact, Stidmann was reflecting that if Steinbock were not his friend, Hortense, the young and superbly beautiful countess, would be an adorable mistress; it was this very notion, controlled by honor, that kept him away from the house. Lisbeth was quick to mark the significant awkwardness that troubles a man in the presence of a woman with whom he will not allow himself to flirt.
With this end in view, Fabien du Ronceret had addressed himself again and again, without success, to Bixiou, Stidmann, and Leon de Lora, asking them to present him to Madame Schontz, and allow him to take part in that menageria of lions of all kinds.
Stidmann, whom I besought to tell me the truth, broke my heart by confessing that his own opinion agreed with that of every other artist, of the critics, and the public.
Besides, as he was saying to Stidmann, if he goes back to ornamental work and small sculpture, he must give up all hope of the Institute and grand works of art, and we should not get the three hundred thousand francs' worth of work promised at Versailles and by the City of Paris and the Ministers.
And then he added, "Though you take a rather cavalier tone with a man who has the honor to be an Assessor on the Tribunal of Commerce of the Department of the Seine." "Your pardon, Consul!" said Stidmann, with a military salute. "I am delighted," the Assessor went on, "to hear what you say. The man may make money then?" "Certainly," said Chanor; "but he must work.
Lulled by her own hopes, Hortense believed in a happy future; and she was chattering to her son of twenty months in the language of onomatopoeia that amuses babes when, at about eleven o'clock, the cook, who had not seen Wenceslas go out, showed in Stidmann. "I beg pardon, madame," said he. "Is Wenceslas gone out already?" "He is at the studio." "I came to talk over the work with him."
This catechism bored the Livonian excessively; he seized a gayer moment to say: "And you, my dearest, what would you have done if your artist had proved guilty?" "I," said she, with an air of prompt decision, "I should have taken up Stidmann not that I love him, of course!" "Hortense!" cried Steinbock, starting to his feet with a sudden and theatrical emphasis.
There were lace curtains, cashmere hangings, brocade portieres, a set of chimney ornaments modeled by Stidmann, a glass cabinet filled with dainty nicknacks. Hulot could not bear to see his Valerie in a bower of inferior magnificence to the dunghill of gold and pearls owned by a Josepha. The drawing-room was furnished with red damask, and the dining-room had carved oak panels.
Hortense looked at her husband with the expression a man condemned to death must wear on his way to the scaffold. "Claude Vignon took Stidmann there," said Wenceslas. "He says it is a very pleasant house." Hortense's head fell. What she felt can only be expressed in one word; it was not pain; it was illness.
His widow, however, had given the commission to Stidmann; people were disgusted with the tawdriness of the project, and it was refused. The three figures at that period represented the three days of July which brought the eminent minister to power.
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