Madame Leseigneur wrapped herself in it very
artistically, and with the readiness of an old woman who wishes
to make her words seem truth. The young girl ran lightly off to
the lumber-room and reappeared with a bundle of small wood, which
she gallantly threw on the fire to revive it.
It would be rather difficult to reproduce the conversation which
followed among these three persons. Hippolyte, guided by the tact
which is almost always the outcome of misfortune suffered in
early youth, dared not allow himself to make the least remark as
to his neighbors' situation, as he saw all about him the signs of
ill-disguised poverty. The simplest question would have been an
indiscretion, and could only be ventured on by old friendship.
The painter was nevertheless absorbed in the thought of this
concealed penury, it pained his generous soul; but knowing how
offensive every kind of pity may be, even the friendliest, the
disparity between his thoughts and his words made him feel
uncomfortable.
The two ladies at first talked of painting, for women easily
guess the secret embarrassment of a first call; they themselves
feel it perhaps, and the nature of their mind supplies them with
a thousand devices to put an end to it. By questioning the young
man as to the material exercise of his art, and as to his
studies, Adelaide and her mother emboldened him to talk. The
indefinable nothings of their chat, animated by kind feeling,
naturally led Hippolyte to flash forth remarks or reflections
which showed the character of his habits and of his mind.
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