Besides, Valerie was in the state of intoxication that comes of triumph.  She had promised to marry Crevel if Marneffe should die; and the amorous Crevel had transferred to the name of Valerie Fortin bonds bearing ten thousand francs a year, the sum-total of what he had made in railway speculations during the past three years, the returns on the capital of a hundred thousand crowns which he had at first offered to the Baronne Hulot.  So Valerie now had an income of thirty-two thousand francs.

Crevel had just committed himself to a promise of far greater magnitude than this gift of his surplus.  In the paroxysm of rapture which his Duchess had given him from two to four—­he gave this fine title to Madame de Marneffe to complete the illusion—­for Valerie had surpassed herself in the Rue du Dauphin that afternoon, he had thought well to encourage her in her promised fidelity by giving her the prospect of a certain little mansion, built in the Rue Barbette by an imprudent contractor, who now wanted to sell it.  Valerie could already see herself in this delightful residence, with a fore-court and a garden, and keeping a carriage!

“What respectable life can ever procure so much in so short a time, or so easily?” said she to Lisbeth as she finished dressing.  Lisbeth was to dine with Valerie that evening, to tell Steinbock those things about the lady which nobody can say about herself.

Madame Marneffe, radiant with satisfaction, came into the drawing-room with modest grace, followed by Lisbeth dressed in black and yellow to set her off.

“Good-evening, Claude,” said she, giving her hand to the famous old critic.

Claude Vignon, like many another, had become a political personage—­a word describing an ambitious man at the first stage of his career.  The political personage of 1840 represents, in some degree, the Abbe of the eighteenth century.  No drawing-room circle is complete without one.

“My dear, this is my cousin, Count Steinbock,” said Lisbeth, introducing Wenceslas, whom Valerie seemed to have overlooked.

“Oh yes, I recognized Monsieur le Comte,” replied Valerie with a gracious bow to the artist.  “I often saw you in the Rue du Doyenne, and I had the pleasure of being present at your wedding.—­It would be difficult, my dear,” said she to Lisbeth, “to forget your adopted son after once seeing him.—­It is most kind of you, Monsieur Stidmann,” she went on, “to have accepted my invitation at such short notice; but necessity knows no law.  I knew you to be the friend of both these gentlemen.  Nothing is more dreary, more sulky, than a dinner where all the guests are strangers, so it was for their sake that I hailed you in—­but you will come another time for mine, I hope?—­Say that you will.”

And for a few minutes she moved about the room with Stidmann, wholly occupied with him.

Crevel and Hulot were announced separately, and then a deputy named Beauvisage.