her presence had brought happiness to him whose name was on every lip,
and whose talent lent immortality to transient scenes. She was loved!
It was impossible to doubt it. When she no longer saw the artist,
these simple words still echoed in her ear, "You see how love has
inspired me!" And the throbs of her heart, as they grew deeper, seemed
a pain, her heated blood revealed so many unknown forces in her being.
She affected a severe headache to avoid replying to her cousin's
questions concerning the pictures; but on their return Madame Roguin
could not forbear from speaking to Madame Guillaume of the fame that
had fallen on the house of the Cat and Racket, and Augustine quaked in
every limb as she heard her mother say that she should go to the Salon
to see her house there. The young girl again declared herself
suffering, and obtained leave to go to bed.

"That is what comes of sight-seeing," exclaimed Monsieur Guillaume--"a
headache. And is it so very amusing to see in a picture what you can
see any day in your own street? Don't talk to me of your artists! Like
writers, they are a starveling crew. Why the devil need they choose my
house to flout it in their pictures?"

"It may help to sell a few ells more of cloth," said Joseph Lebas.

This remark did not protect art and thought from being condemned once
again before the judgment-seat of trade. As may be supposed, these
speeches did not infuse much hope into Augustine, who, during the
night, gave herself up to the first meditations of love. The events of
the day were like a dream, which it was a joy to recall to her mind.
She was initiated into the fears, the hopes, the remorse, all the ebb
and flow of feeling which could not fail to toss a heart so simple and
timid as hers. What a void she perceived in this gloomy house! What a