Free Toad Triumphant by William Horwood

They looked at each other with relief, and rubbed their hands with satisfaction. But no sooner were their hopes thus raised, than they were dashed back down to the ground by the passage that followed:
     
Following her late husband’s demise, and discovering that all the family’s fortunes had been lost in unfortunate speculations, the Countess decided to eschew her nobility and follow her Muse to study Art under the formidable direction of Monsieur Auguste Rodin, the Parisian sculptor.
Her remarkable ‘fall” from the fame and untold wealth of a French Countess into the role of an obscure étudiante d’art under a master whose harsh discipline is as notorious as his works are increasingly famous has only been matched since by her rise to an artistic notoriety that owes nothing to inherited wealth and social position.
Imbued with that selfless philosophy from the East of which Madame Blavatsky and her fellow Theosophists are the best-known proponents, which invites its followers to engage in charitable works and anonymity, Madame d’Albert is presently engaged on a world publicity tour. In the course of this she has become almost as famous as her mentor Rodin, all against her wishes, and wants nothing of the wealth, the acclaim, and admiring solicitation that her many male admirers wish to bestow on her.
“Simplicity of Art and a tranquil life are what I am — how do you say in your tongue so difficile — seeking for!” she says in English made charming and romantic by an accent that marks her out as coming from the country that has given the world haute couture, haute cuisine, and more recently the Eiffel Tower.
“Once I had all, but I had nothing,” she says, “now I have nothing and I have all, so I am not sad for the old days when my late husband lived. No one can take the ache from out of my heart, so I am alone forever! Art alone is my love now; Art, he is my God; Art, he I most adore!”
     
    “Is there much more of this?” asked the Badger who was stirred to an advanced state of agitation at these words, redolent of trouble and humbug as they were.
    “Not much,” sang out the Otter cheerfully.
     
Madame d’Albert has spent the winter season in New York creating likenesses of those members of Society who have persuaded her of their sincerity in their affections towards High Art, and are willing to show their appreciation to her in a practical way She never discusses the matter of fees, believing that to do so is to do a disservice to the Art she serves, but, as she has been quoted as saying, “to pay too little for that which is priceless is, as we say in my country, ignoble.”
Now, New York’s loss is London’s gain, for Madame d’Albert intends to spend the Summer Season there, and sails imminently Though we are informed that she has private business there, and intends to pursue delicate enquiries concerning relatives with whom her family tragically lost touch some years ago, we understand that genuine artistic commissions for execution during her stay will be considered, and applications should be made care of the Ritz Hotel, Piccadilly.
     
    “And it is your intention to have this female lady staying here with you alone tonight?” demanded the Badger. He looked as dark and threatening as any had ever seen him. Only as he spoke did the Otter, who had read so lightly the passage that exercised the Badger so much, understand how grave the matter was. Never had anything so scandalous, so thoroughly dangerous, threatened the peace and tranquillity of the River Bank before.
    “O, please, Badger, do not speak so loud or look so peeved,” said Toad.
    “Peeved!” thundered the furious Badger.
    “My cousin Madame d’Albert has spent a night here with me before —”
    A stunned silence met this astonishing statement for, if it were true, the situation was far worse than they had feared. The Badger and the others had been outflanked, outwitted and left very far behind by a loose French lady whom