So Kayser consoled himself for this escapade by the sacredness of art, the only sacredness he recognized.  On that indeed he yielded nothing.  What mattered it to the world, if a girl went astray, even if that girl were his niece?  Public morality was not hurt thereby.  Ah! if he, Kayser, had exhibited to the world a lewd picture, it would have been “a horse of a different color”!  The dignity, seriousness, purity of art, that was right enough!—­But a woman!  Pshaw! a woman!—­Nor was he heard once to express any uneasiness as to what might become of Marianne.

In the course of her perilous career, which, however, was not that of a courtesan, but that of a freed woman avenging herself, Marianne had met Guy de Lissac and loved him as completely as her nature allowed her to love.  Guy entertained her.  With him she talked over everything, she gave herself up to him, and made plans for the future.  Why should they ever separate?  They adored each other.  Guy was rich, or at any rate he lived sumptuously.  Marianne was a lovely mistress, clever, in fact, ten women in one.  Guy became madly attached to her and he felt himself drawn closer to her day by day.  She often repeated with perfect sincerity that she had never loved any one before.

The first lover, then?  She did not even know his name now!

There was no reason why they should not live together for ever, a life of mutual joy and happiness, led by the same fancies, stirred by the same desires.  Why ever leave each other, even once?  But it was just this that induced Guy to abandon this pretty girl.  He was afraid.  He saw no end to such a union as theirs.  The little love-affair that enticed him assumed another name:  The Chain.  He sometimes debated with himself seriously about marrying this Marianne, whose adventures he knew, but who so intoxicated him that he forgot all the past.

Uncle Kayser, entirely engrossed in the “dignity of art,” and occupied with the composition of an allegorical production entitled The Modern Family,—­a page of pure, mystic, social, regenerative art,—­had certainly forgotten his niece; nevertheless, Lissac at times felt somewhat tempted to restore her to him.  He was grieved at the thought of abandoning Marianne to another.  His dread of marriage triumphed over his jealousy.  One fine day, Guy suddenly brought about a separation.  Feeling ill, he took to his bed, when one morning Marianne came to him and said in passionate tones: 

“Now I will never leave you again!  You are in danger, and I am here to save you!”

Guy now felt himself lost.  His rapid perception, whose operation was as sudden as a blow of the fist, warned him that if he allowed this woman to install herself in his house, he might say good-by to liberty, and probably also to his life.  This Parisian had laid down as a principle, that a man should always be unfettered.  He held in horror this shameful half-marriage that the language of slang had