28
THE MYSTEEY OF AN OMNIBUS.
The rascal had planted himself in front of Marguerite and
was gazing at her with an air of bewilderment, Ihe per-
formance was not displeasing to her apparently, for she smiled,
but Freneuse was infuriated.                                         -
"The petite is on her feet," resumed Bmos. A little re-
pose on this sofa and all will be right again, will it not, car-
issima?" he added, addressing the weeping girl.
" No, I am going," she said, wiping away her tears.
"You  are  right.    The fresh air will restore you entirely.
Take a turn on the Place Pigalle and come back when you feel
 equal to resuming the pose."
"I shall not return," murmured Pia, as she walked un-
steadily toward the door.
Freneuse hastened after her to retain her, but Mile.
Maro-uerite arres:ed him with a look, an imperious glance,
which was surprised by Pia. Her pale cheeks flushed, and
her sweet face contracted painfully.    But she did not stop.
This time Freneuse passed before Mile. Paulet and ap-
proached Pia as she placed her hand on the door-knob.
"Return home, dear Pia, and take courage, he said. 1
shall come to see you to-day, and to-morrow we will go to
the cemetery and carry some flowers."
" Good-by," replied the Italian, repressing a sob.
" I am truly sorry," said the father of Marguerite.   " You
wished, no doubt, to accompany the girl."
" She would not have permitted it," answered Binos. She
had made up her mind to go alone, and she has an iron will.
Besides, she is not ill, only grieved."
"What is her grief?" asked Mlle. Marguerite, dryly.
" She has just learned of the death of her sister."
" Was it here that she learned of it?"
" Yes, mademoiselle, by an unfortunate accident. I had
never heard of this sister, and was about to relate to my
friend Freneuse that I had assisted at the burial of a young
girl whom I did not know, except that I had seen her body
at the morgue. I knew only her name, and was so impru-
dent as to mention before the girl that the poor unfortunate
was named Astrodi."
"Astrodi! The girl of whom you speak was named As-
trodi?" exclaimed M. Paulet.
"Yes;   Bianca Astrodi," replied Binos, surprised at the
effect produced by his words on his questioner.
"And you have the proof of her death?"
"The material proof.    She has just been interred, and I
was present."
" Then a certificate of her decease may be obtained?
"Assuredly.    Yesterday it would have been difficult, as no
one knew her name, though she had been lying at the morgue
three days."
" She died, then, by accident?"
"Yes,'monsieur, by a very singular------"
"Could you tell me where she lived?"
This question, unexpectedly propounded, had the effect of
arresting the confidences of Binos. He had little affection
for the bourgeois, as he designated all who had not the honor
of being artists, and held himself on his guard in their pres-
ence. Now, he had recognized immediately that M. Paulet
was a bourgeois of the first class, and if he had not already
set it down to his discredit, it was owing to the fascinating
influence of Mile. Marguerite's luxuriant beauty. But he was _
little disposed to put him in possession of the tragic omnibus
story, concerning which the illustrious Pidouche had sworn
him to secrecy.
" I do not know," he said; "but if you wish very much to
find out, you might inform yourself at tho prefecture of
police."
Freneuse had been on thorns since Pia's departure. He
would have wished to explain how it had come about that
he had been forced to take the Italian girl in his arms, but
he felt that to seek to justify himself without having been
questioned would be as much as to say, " I know you are
jealous, and must prove to you that your jealousy is un-
founded."
But the beautiful Marguerite was not wont to disguise her
impressions, and approached the subject without hesitation.
" The girl is pretty," she said, in a careless tone.    " Does
she come for a sitting every day?"
"Since I have begun   my picture, yes,"  said  the  artist,
with his accustomed sincerity.
"That is to say for four months, if I mistake not."
"Four month.* and a half, mademoiselle."
" I can understand that your progress would be slow if
such interruptions are of frequent occurrence."
"It has not happened before, mademoiselle. Usually j-U
child preserves her attitude admirably, but just before y0u
entered she received sad tidings, in consequence of which
she fainted.    I had to carry her to the divan."
" It was very natural. You must be interested in her'
seeing her for several hours every day. And she seems to be
much attached to you. I saw tears m her eyes when she
said: 'I am going.'"
" She wits weeping the loss of her sister.
"What! Bianca Astrodi, the sister of this model!" ex-
claimed M. Paulet.
"Yes, monsieur.    Did I not tell you so?"
It had been an agreeable surprise to M. Paulet to learn
through Binos that Blanchelaine had spoken truly. There
could not be two Bianca Astrodis in Paris, and her death was
a cause of inward rejoicing to the excellent M. Paulet, He
had even begun to question whether he might not be relieved
of his contract. Why should he pay for a certificate of de-
cease which he could easily procure for himself? But his joy
was dampened when he learned that the deceased had a sis-
ter. Who was the father of this unexpected sister? This
had become the question upon which he required enlighten-
ment.
"Pias' name is Astrodi, too," resumed Freneuse. "It
was their mother's name."
" It is all well," thought the natural heir of the late M.
Francis Boyer. ' "My brother has never spoken of this
second daughter, therefore she is not his. _ And as he sur-
vived Bianca one day, the model has no claim to the inherit.
ance." 
" But, papa," said Mile. Marguerite, " we did not come
here to establish the relationship of these two Astrodis, and
since you forget to do so, I will remind Monsieur Freneuse
that he has promised to show us the curiosities of his studio.
As yet I have seen only an Italian girl in a red petticoat
stretched out on a sofa."
The hard, unfeeling tone in which Mile. Paulet spoke of a
poor girl who had not merited her disdain gave something of
a shock to the very decided inclination which Freneuse had
conceived for her. The beautiful Marguerite displayed more
assurance than sensibility, and if she deigned to let it be seen
that Freneuse pleased her, she did not shrink from wounding
him by her manner of speaking of a child who interested him,
The artist had a kind heart, and the mental comparisons
which he made were not to the advantage of the rich heiress.
Nevertheless, for her beauty's sake, he pardoned her caprices.
"I fear, mademoiselle," he said, " that in the hope of at-
tracting you, I have too much vaunted the marvels of my
studio. I have here only some sketches, studies, a few an-
tiquities collected in Italy, fragments of ancient tapestry."
" But your pictures," exclaimed M. Paulet, "we came ex-
pressly to admire them."                                          _
"My pictures cannot lay any claim to your admiration,
said Freneuse, modestly, "but I should be happy to show them
to you.    Unfortunately,  I cannot keep them herefor the
reason that I sell them."                                               .   
" And well,  too, for which you deserve congratulation,
said M. Paulet.    "If I had a son, he should be an artist; it
is the king of trades.    You have a fortune at the end of your
fingers."
"Bah!" said Binos, " there are incidental expenses. Paint
are exorbitantly high. I, monsieur, whom you fee, have been
ruined by terre de Sienne and chrome yellow."
"Ah! monsieur is an artist?"
' " I flatter myself that I am.    I was born to it.   I nave
had no master.    I am nature's pupil.    Present me, Paul
" Pierre Binos, my school mate and friend," said Freneuse,
who would willingly have dispensed with this inconvenient
comrade.                                                               .        -j
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, monsieur, saiu
M. Paulet gravely.    " Do you paint portraits?"               
" I paint everythingexcept sign-boardsand if 1 snn
be  entreated, rather  than refuse  to  assist an  unfortnJjuj
tradesman, I would dishonor my brush.    But were 1 a
to the honor of immortalizing the features of mademoisen,
I should execute a chef-d'uvre."                      _          .,, 8
Mademoiselle rewarded this grotesque compliment w
smile.
"You have  one picture at least," she said, addressing
Freneuse, "the one you are finishing for the Salon.   Ar
forbidden to see that?"                                                   fu
"Certainly not," replied the artist, "and if it have