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drawers； she turned to Hippolyte； and said with a blush：
〃I am not tall enough。 Will you get it down？〃
A feeling of modesty； betrayed in the expression of her face and
the tones of her voice； was the real motive of her request； and
the young man； understanding this； gave her one of those glances
of intelligence which are the sweetest language of love。 Seeing
that the painter had read her soul； Adelaide cast down her eyes
with the instinct of reserve which is the secret of a maiden's
heart。 Hippolyte； finding nothing to say； and feeling almost
timid； took down the picture； examined it gravely； carrying it to
the light of the window； and then went away； without saying a
word to Mademoiselle Leseigneur but； 〃I will return it soon。〃
During this brief moment they both went through one of those
storms of agitation of which the effects in the soul may be
compared to those of a stone flung into a deep lake。 The most
delightful waves of thought rise and follow each other；
indescribable； repeated； and aimless； tossing the heart like the
circular ripples； which for a long time fret the waters； starting
from the point where the stone fell。
Hippolyte returned to the studio bearing the portrait。 His easel
was ready with a fresh canvas； and his palette set； his brushes
cleaned； the spot and the light carefully chosen。 And till the
dinner hour he worked at the painting with the ardor artists
throw into their whims。 He went again that evening to the Baronne
de Rouville's； and remained from nine till eleven。 Excepting the
different topics of conversation； this evening was exactly like
the last。 The two old men arrived at the same hour； the same game
of piquet was played； the same speeches made by the players； the
sum lost by Adelaide's friend was not less considerable than on
the previous evening； only Hippolyte； a little bolder； ventured
to chat with the young girl。
A week passed thus； and in the course of it the painter's
feelings and Adelaide's underwent the slow and delightful
transformations which bring two souls to a perfect understanding。
Every day the look with which the girl welcomed her friend grew
more intimate； more confiding； gayer； and more open； her voice
and manner became more eager and more familiar。 They laughed and
talked together； telling each other their thoughts； speaking of
themselves with the simplicity of two children who have made
friends in a day； as much as if they had met constantly for three
years。 Schinner wished to be taught piquet。 Being ignorant and a
novice； he； of course； made blunder after blunder； and like the
old man； he lost almost every game。 Without having spoken a word
of love the lovers knew that they were all in all to one another。
Hippolyte enjoyed exerting his power over his gentle little
friend； and many concessions were made to him by Adelaide； who；
timid and devoted to him； was quite deceived by the assumed fits
of temper； such as the least skilled lover and the most guileless
girl can affect； and which they constantly play off； as spoilt
children abuse the power they owe to their mother's affection。
Thus all familiarity between the girl and the old Count was soon
put a stop to。 She understood the painter's melancholy； and the
thoughts hidden in the furrows on his brow； from the abrupt tone
of the few words he spoke when the old man unceremoniously kissed
Adelaide's hands or throat。
Mademoiselle Leseigneur； on her part； soon expected her lover to
give a short account of all his actions； she was so unhappy； so
restless when Hippolyte did not come； she scolded him so
effectually for his absence； that the painter had to give up
seeing his other friends； and now went nowhere。 Adelaide allowed
the natural jealousy of women to be perceived when she heard that
sometimes at eleven o'clock； on quitting the house； the painter
still had visits to pay； and was to be seen in the most brilliant
drawing…rooms of Paris。 This mode of life； she assured him； was
bad for his health； then； with the intense conviction to which
the accent； the emphasis and the look of one we love lend so much
weight； she asserted that a man who was obliged to expend his
time and the charms of his wit on several women at once could not
be the object of any very warm affection。 Thus the painter was
led； as much by the tyranny of his passion as by the exactions of
a girl in love； to live exclusively in the little apartment where
everything attracted him。
And never was there a purer or more ardent love。 On both sides
the same trustfulness； the same delicacy； gave their passion
increase without the aid of those sacrifices by which many
persons try to prove their affection。 Between these two there was
such a constant interchange of sweet emotion that they knew not
which gave or received the most。
A spontaneous affinity made the union of their souls a close one。
The progress of this true feeling was so rapid that two months
after the accident to which the painter owed the happiness of
knowing Adelaide； their lives were one life。 From early morning
the young girl； hearing footsteps overhead； could say to herself；
〃He is there。〃 When Hippolyte went home to his mother at the
dinner hour he never failed to look in on his neighbors； and in
the evening he flew there at the accustomed hour with a lover's
punctuality。 Thus the most tyrannical woman or the most ambitious
in the matter of love could not have found the smallest fault
with the young painter。 And Adelaide tasted of unmixed and
unbounded happiness as she saw the fullest realization of the
ideal of which； at her age； it is so natural to dream。
The old gentleman now came more rarely； Hippolyte； who had been
jealous； had taken his place at the green table； and shared his
constant ill…luck at cards。 And sometimes； in the midst of his
happiness； as he considered Madame de Rouville's disastrous
positionfor he had had more than one proof of her extreme
povertyan importunate thought would haunt him。 Several times he
had said to himself as he went home； 〃Strange！ twenty francs
every evening？〃 and he dared not confess to himself his odious
suspicions。
He spent two months over the portrait； and when it was finished；
varnished； and framed； he looked upon it as one of his best
works。 Madame la Baronne de Rouville had never spoken of it
again。 Was this from indifference or pride？ The painter would not
allow himself to account for this silence。 He joyfully plotted
with Adelaide to hang the picture in its place when Madame de
Rouville should be out。 So one day； during the walk her mother
usually took in the Tuileries； Adelaide for the first time went
up to Hippolyte's studio； on the pretext of seeing the portrait
in the good light in which it had been painted。 She stood
speechless and motionless； but in ecstatic contemplation； in
which all a woman's feelings were merged。 For are they not all
comprehended in boundless admiration for the m