"Besides, could you find anything more charming than these little toads? The type of the sublime (Raphael has proved it by his Madonnas) is probably a mother with her child?"
Rosanette, who felt herself stifling, went away; and presently Pellerin said:
"Well, about Arnoux; you know what has happened?"
"Perhaps by this time he is----Excuse me!"
The artist got up in order to raise the head of the little corpse higher.
And Pellerin, half-closing his eyes, in order to take his dimensions better:
"I was saying that our friend Arnoux is perhaps by this time locked up!"
"Just give a little glance at it. Is that the thing?"
"Yes, 'tis quite right. But about Arnoux?"
"As far as I could understand, he was sued by one Mignot, an intimate friend of Regimbart--a long-headed fellow that, eh? What an idiot! Just imagine! one day----"
"What! it's not Regimbart that's in question, is it?"
"It is, indeed! Well, yesterday evening, Arnoux had to produce twelve thousand francs; if not, he was a ruined man."
"Oh! this perhaps is exaggerated," said Frederick.
"Not a bit. It looked to me a very serious business, very serious!"
At that moment Rosanette reappeared, with red spots under her eyes, which glowed like dabs of paint. She sat down near the drawing and gazed at it. Pellerin made a sign to the other to hold his tongue on account of her. But Frederick, without minding her:
"I tell you I met him yesterday," said the artist, "at seven o'clock in the evening, in the Rue Jacob. He had even taken the precaution to have his passport with him; and he spoke about embarking from Havre, he and his whole camp."
"No doubt. He is too much of a family man to live by himself."
"Certain, faith! Where do you expect him to find twelve thousand francs?"
Frederick took two or three turns round the room. He panted for breath, bit his lips, and then snatched up his hat.
"Where are you going now?" said Rosanette.
He made no reply, and the next moment he had disappeared.
Twelve thousand francs should be procured, or, if not, he would see Madame Arnoux no more; and until now there had lingered in his breast an unconquerable hope. Did she not, as it were, constitute the very substance of his heart, the very basis of his life? For some minutes he went staggering along the footpath, his mind tortured with anxiety, and nevertheless gladdened by the thought that he was no longer by the other's side.