“The grand-nephew of a valiant General under Charles XII. could not beg.  My weakly constitution forbids my taking military service, and I yesterday saw the last of the hundred thalers which I had brought with me from Dresden to Paris.  I have left twenty-five francs in the drawer of this table to pay the rent I owe to the landlord.

“My parents being dead, my death will affect nobody.  I desire that my countrymen will not blame the French Government.  I have never registered myself as a refugee, and I have asked for nothing; I have met none of my fellow-exiles; no one in Paris knows of my existence.

  “I am dying in Christian beliefs.  May God forgive the last of the
  Steinbocks!

“WENCESLAS.”

Mademoiselle Fischer, deeply touched by the dying man’s honesty, opened the drawer and found the five five-franc pieces to pay his rent.

“Poor young man!” cried she.  “And with no one in the world to care about him!”

She went downstairs to fetch her work, and sat stitching in the garret, watching over the Livonian gentleman.

When he awoke his astonishment may be imagined on finding a woman sitting by his bed; it was like the prolongation of a dream.  As she sat there, covering aiguillettes with gold thread, the old maid had resolved to take charge of the poor youth whom she admired as he lay sleeping.

As soon as the young Count was fully awake, Lisbeth talked to give him courage, and questioned him to find out how he might make a living.  Wenceslas, after telling his story, added that he owed his position to his acknowledged talent for the fine arts.  He had always had a preference for sculpture; the necessary time for study had, however, seemed to him too long for a man without money; and at this moment he was far too weak to do any hard manual labor or undertake an important work in sculpture.  All this was Greek to Lisbeth Fischer.  She replied to the unhappy man that Paris offered so many openings that any man with will and courage might find a living there.  A man of spirit need never perish if he had a certain stock of endurance.

“I am but a poor girl myself, a peasant, and I have managed to make myself independent,” said she in conclusion.  “If you will work in earnest, I have saved a little money, and I will lend you, month by month, enough to live upon; but to live frugally, and not to play ducks and drakes with or squander in the streets.  You can dine in Paris for twenty-five sous a day, and I will get you your breakfast with mine every day.  I will furnish your rooms and pay for such teaching as you may think necessary.  You shall give me formal acknowledgment for the money I may lay out for you, and when you are rich you shall repay me all.  But if you do not work, I shall not regard myself as in any way pledged to you, and I shall leave you to your fate.”