It was the grandmother who was bringing up the boy.  She and a kind-hearted fellow, Francois Charriere, a sculptor, who as he said himself, was nothing of a genius, but who, however, designed models and advantageously sold them to the manufacturers of lamps in the Rue Saint-Louis au Marais.  It was Charriere who, in fulfilment of a vow made to his friend Marsy, acted as guardian to the boy.

Nobody in Paris now remembered anything about Philippe Marsy.  In the course of time, all the little rumors are hushed in the roar and rattle of Parisian life.  Only some semi-flattering rumors were connected with Sabine’s name, together with some mysterious reminiscences.  Moreover, she had the special attraction of a hostess who imparts to her salon the peculiar charm and flavor of unceremonious hospitality.  One was only obliged to wear a white cravat about his throat, he did not have to starch his wits.

Only very recently had Sabine Marsy’s salon acquired the reputation of being an easy-going one, where one was sure of a welcome, a sort of rendezvous where every one could be found as in the corridor of a theatre on the night of a first appearance, or on the sidewalk of a boulevard; a salon well-filled, that could rank with the semi-official and very distinguished one presided over by Madame Evan, and those others quieter, more sober—­if a little Calvinistic—­of the select Alsatian colony.

Sabine Marsy must have had a great deal of tact, force of character and perseverance in carrying out her plans, to have reached this point, more difficult to her, moreover, than it would have been to any other, as she had no political backing whatever.  Her connection with society was entirely through the world of artists.  Many of these, however, had brought to her salon some of the Athenians of the political world, connoisseurs, good conversationalists, handsome men, who freely declared with Vaudrey, that a republic could not exist without the assistance of women, that to women Orleanism was due, and those charming fellows had made Madame Marsy’s hospitable salon the fashion.

Besides it is easy enough in Paris to have a salon if one knows how to give dinners.  Some squares of Bristol board engraved by Stern and posted to good addresses, will attract with an almost disconcerting facility, a crowd of visitors who will swarm around a festive board like bees around a honeycomb.

Paris is a town of guests.

Then too, Madame Marsy was herself so captivating.  She was always on the watch for some new celebrity, as a game-keeper watches for a hare that he means to shoot presently.  One of her daily tasks was to read the Journal Officiel in order to discover in the orator of to-day the Minister of State of to-morrow.  She was always well informed beforehand which artist or sculptor would be likely to win the medal of honor at the Salon, and was the first to invite such a one and to let him know that it was she who had discovered him.  In literature, she encouraged the new school, liking it for the attention it attracted.  It was also her aim to give to her salon a literary as well as a political color.  Artists and statesmen elbowed one another there.