His Masterpiece

flushed by the falsehood which she had told Madame Vanzade about a young friend from

t. Lazare Station just in time to catch the Havre train. He knew, beyond Mantes, a little village called Bennecourt, where there was an artists' inn which he had at times invaded with some comrades; and careless as to the two hours' rail, he took h

id May morning, the rippling waters were spangled with gold in the sunlight, the young foliage showed delicately green against the cloudless azure. And, beyond the islets situated at this point of the river, ho

to lunch. An omelette, some s

stay the night,

te wine; eh? you know that pinky wi

barn-yard, and when the latter came back with her eg

ow you're

thout hesitation, 'it looks li

ey emptied two bottles of wine, and began a third, becoming so gay and noisy that they ended by feeling bewildered in the long room, where they partook of the meal all alone. She

reath of air,'

st start back at four o'clock; s

outstretched arm, told her all about the locality; seemed to know whither he was going, and when they had reached the last house-an old building, standing on the bank of the Seine, just opposite the slopes of Jeufosse-turned

s, they found a peasant standing at the open doorway of the hou

! Does that shan

it did, and that his tenants had gone away without paying him

o take the place. There are many Parisians who'd be glad of it. Thr

e two rooms also, so vast that one seemed lost in them. As for the furniture, it consisted of a walnut bedstead in one of the rooms, and of a table and some household utensils in the kitchen. But in front of the house the n

atoes as they are,

epths of that nook, so far away from everybody else! But they smiled. Was such a thing to be thought of? They had barely time to catch the train that was to take them back to Paris. And

two hundred and fifty fr

de's door. They had grown very sad. They exchanged a long hands

h her eyes bright with fever. Never had that pious house, that vault, without air or light, where she died of boredom, caused her so much suffering. Her fits of giddiness had come upon her again; the want of exercise made the blood throb in her temples. She owned to him that she had fainted one evening in her room, as if she had

y became intolerable to her. She loved, she would have liked to proclaim it aloud, and her feelings revolte

w herself with a distracted gesture into Claude's arms, sobbing with suffering a

er, and was almost smot

am so very poor, and you would lose everything.

still; her halting words

ever thought of it, I swear it to you! Ah! let her keep everything and let m

t the poor woman. Ah! I despise myself. I wish I had the strength. Bu

transport. 'Let others die, t

from his defeat, at the Salon, and anxious to recover from it, longed for complete rest in the country; yonder he would find the real 'open air,' he would work away with grass up to his neck and bring back masterpieces. In a couple of days everything was ready, the studio relinquished, the few household chattels conveyed to the railway station. Besides, they met with a slice of luck, for Papa Malgras gave some five hundr

s three leagues long, as far as Vernon, to buy plates and saucepans, which they brought back with them in triumph. At last they got shipshape, occupying one of the upstairs rooms, abandoning the other to the mice, and transforming the dining-room into a studio; and, above all, as happy as children at taking their meals in the kitc

ields of Bonnieres and Jeufosse. A person who was obliged to leave the neighbourhood sold them an old boat for thirty francs, so that they also had the river at their disposal, and, like savages, became seized with a passion for it, living on its waters for days together, rowing about, discovering new countries, and lingering for hours under the willows on the banks, or in little creeks, dark with shade. Betwixt the eyots scattered along the stream there was a shifting and mysterious city, a network of passages along which, wit

owever, Christin

omise me one thing-that yo

row; I give

shall really get angry this

came here to work-dash it

ok neither canvas nor colours. Then she kissed him, laughing, proud of her power, moved by the constant sacrifice he m

d his palette to nestle by her side. On another occasion, he was altogether charmed by an old farmhouse, shaded by some antiquated apple trees which had grown to the size of oaks. He came thither two days in succession, but on the third Christine took him to the market at Bonnieres to buy some hens. The next day was also lost; the canvas had dried; then he grew impatient in trying to work at it again, and finally abandoned it altogether. Throughou

sion of her nature burst into being. She was i

ning shears, careless of the thorns which lacerated her hands, she reaped harvests of roses from the giant rose-bushes; and she gave herself a thorough back-ache in gathering the apricots, which she sold for two hundred francs to some of the Englishmen who scoured the district every year. She was very proud of her bargain, and seriously talked of living upon the garden produce. Claude cared less for gardening; he had placed his couch in the large dining-room, transformed into a studio; and he stretched himself up

d so coolness had followed, and the old friendship seemed dead. Christine was grieved at this, for she realised well enough that he had broken off all intercourse with his comrades for her sake. She constantly reverted to the subject;

algras half a dozen of his old studies, and Christine, on accompanying him to the station, made him solemnly prom

e him? did you em

in silent embarrassment. Then

hadn'

d, with two big tears welli

me very mu

g also, and begging her not to make him sadder still. 'Could peo

ts; she, bending towards him, was offering her lips; while he laughingly protruded his; and their surprise was so sudden that they did not change their attitude, but, still clasped together, advanced at the same slow pace. The amazed family remained transfixed against one of the side banks, the father stout and apoplectic, the mother as thin as a knife-blade, and the daughter, a mere shadow, looking like a sick bird moulting-all three of them ugly, moreover, and but scantily p

hey were the Margaillans, the man was that building contractor whom Dubuche had promenaded through the Salon of the Rejected, and who had laughed in front of his picture with the roaring laugh of a fool. A couple of hundred steps further on, as he and Christine emerged from the lane and found themselves in front

in future,' said Claude, as they returned to Be

one over the frost-bound, clanking roads. And he, finding himself in solitude during these walks, after months of constant companionship, wondered at the way his life had turned, against his own will, as it were. He had never wished for home life even with her; had he been consulted, he would have expressed his horror of it; it had come about, however, and could not be undone, for-without mentioning the child-he was one of those who lack the courage to break off. This fate had evidently been in store

for Melie, who only made matters worse by her gaping stupidity. The father had to come to the rescue, and proved still more awkward than the two women. The discomfort which needlework had caused Christine of old, her want of aptitude as regards the usual occupations of her sex, revived amid the cares that the baby required. The child was ill-kept,

' out of four apples, a bottle, and a stoneware jar, disposed on a table-napkin. This was only to pass his time. But afterwards he warmed to his work; the idea of painting a figure in the full sunlight ended by haunting him; and from that moment his wife became his victim, she herself agreeable enough, offering herself, feeling happy at affording him pleasure, without as yet understanding what a terrible rival she was giving herself in art. He painted her a score of times, dressed in white, in red, amidst the

e father, after laughing, became angry, and swore at the tiresome mite, who would not keep quiet for a minute. Who ever heard of trifling with painting? Then the mother made big eyes at the little one, and held him while the painter quickly sketched an arm or a leg. Claude obstinately kept at it for weeks, tempted as he felt by the pretty tones of that childish skin. It was

bbing, refusing to keep stil

ou tire the

burst forth,

with this painting of mine. Children a

d on such days Christine went to fetch him with the child, sitting down to watch him paint, until they all three returned home with flagging steps, beneath the ashen dusk of waning daylight. One afternoon Claude was surprised to see Christine bring with her the old album which she had used as a young girl. She joked about it, and explained that to sit behind him like that had roused in her a wish to work herself. Her voice was a little unsteady as sh

n and things steeped in diffuse light. And henceforth, won over by that feast of colours, she would have declared it all capital if he would only have condescended to finish his work a little more, and if she had not remained nonplussed now and then before a mauve ground or a blue tree, which upset all her preconceived notions of colo

ng into their lives, and it made her muse. When she saw him go off with his bag, his porta

ove me

are! Why should

u love me, kiss me a gr

him as far as th

ve never prevented you from working. G

ps flaring already at five o'clock, its gatherings of friends, spurring each other on to emulation, and its life of ardent production, which even the frosts of December could not slacken. He went there thrice in one month, on the pretext of seeing Malgras, to whom he had, again, sold a few small pictures. He no longer avoided passing in front of Faucheur's inn; he even allowed himself to be waylaid at times by old Porrette,

nexpected meeting filled him with emotion. He had that morning climbed up to the plateau to find a subject, having at last grown tired of the banks of the Seine; and at the

is it

stammered from

. There are certain things one's obliged to do. And you live near here, eh? I knew-that is to say, I

at seeing him, helped hi

guilty party. Ah! it's a long while since we saw one another! If you knew w

, they wailed about their poverty so much that he might have to support them in his turn. He had given up the idea of competing for the Prix de Rome, feeling certain of being beaten in the effort, and anxious to earn his living. And he was weary already; sick at scouring the town, at earning twenty-five sous an hour from ignorant architects, who treated him like a hodman. What course should he adopt? How was he to gue

he elder hedges were leading to an open plain, a

thought about it-you're going to that shanty. Oh! th

ee him in his building-yards, among the houses he runs up, as active as the very fiend, showing marvellous good management, and a wonderful scent as to the right streets to build and

ng further-no doubt from a fear of being compromised by being seen in his co

a word was said respecting Christine, and he was reluctantly deciding to quit Dubuche, holding

Sandoz a

spoke to me about you last month. He is sti

med Claude, beside himself. 'Come and se

him to come, I give you my word-good-b

plain, until nothing remained but the shiny silk of his hat and the black spot of his coat. The young man returne

lingering on her way back, gossiping with a neighbour, with her child on her a

ur Claude Lantie

aback, and s

; if you'll ki

d at her with a good-natured smile; but as she hurried on, trying to hide her embarrassment by looking

re is someb

; the two men were alrea

re! how kind of you t

ent by some business, and he sent

t; but you are here. By the t

ristine, who was smilin

r day I met Dubuche, who was going up yonde

again, and then with

ike that. My dear, you see this gentleman? He's my old chum, Pierre Sandoz, whom I love like a

at once with his good-natured air, his sound friendship, the fatherly sympathy with which h

nd you must love each other always, for l

one, whom she had on her arm, h

w they had met each other, and what had led them to start housekeeping together, and he seemed to be surprised when his friend asked him why they did not get married. In

e to me; but, if she was a good and honest gir

e likes, old man. Surely I don't

uring! What a dash of real sunlight! And Claude, who listened to him, delighted, and laughing proudly, was just going to question him abo

y drop, into the pot standing on the range; and when the dessert appeared-some strawberries just gathered, and a cream cheese from a neighbour's dairy-they gossiped and gossiped with their elbows squarely set on the table. In Paris? Well, to tell the truth, the comrades were doing nothing very original in Paris. And yet they were fighting their way, jostling each other in order to get

accompanied Sandoz to the st

o tell you something. I thin

r burst ou

erstand why you gave me

idea against which facts protested. Besides, as for himself, he needed an affection that would prove the guardian of his tranquillity, a loving home, where he might shut himself up, so as to devote his whole life to the huge work which he ever dreamt of. And he added that everything depended upon a man's choice-that he believed he had found what he had been looking for, an or

rding to one's feelings. And good-bye, for here's your tr

, for he was still free, as he was not to be married till the autumn. Those were happy days, w

eine, both of them lying there with their eyes fixed on the sky,

profession, is after all a tremendous power, a resistless weapon in the hands of a fellow with convictions. But if I am obliged to avail myself of journalism, I don't mean to g

nless in the dense heat. He resumed spe

to make a brain think by itself alone; see what becomes of the nobleness of the brain when the stomach is ailing! No, no, it's idiotic; there is no philosophy nor science in it! We are positivists, evolutionists, and yet we are to stick to the literary lay-figures of classic times, and continue disentangling the tangled locks of pure reason! He who says psychologist says traitor to truth. Besides, psychology, physiology, it all signifies n

red; there was nought but the silent ripple of the river past the willows. An

ther they go, how they re-act one upon another-in short, I shall have mankind in a small compass, the way in which mankind grows and behaves. On the other hand, I shall set my men and women in some given period of history, which will provide me with the necessary surrounding

s on the grass, as if he wanted to sink into

p that spreads even into the stones, and makes the trees themselves our big, motionless brothers! Yes, I wish to lose myself in thee; it is thou that I feel beneath my limbs, clasping

cry of ardent conviction, quivering with profound poetical emotion, and Sandoz's eyes grew moist; and, to

for every one of us, when t

rass, had not stirred. After a fresh s

hem through, all of them.

'my bones are too hard. They'll smash their own wri

hy shouldn't the lad be treated according to custom? What influenced her above all was the idea of giving the boy a protector in this godfather, whom she found so serious and sensible, even amidst the exuberance of his strength. Claud

good-bye, Christine took Sandoz asi

soon, won't you

d muddy winter, and he spent it in a state of morose torpidity, bitter even against Sandoz, who, having married in October, could no longer come to Bennecourt so often. Claude only seemed to wake up at each of the other's visits; deriving a week's excitement from them, and never ceasing to comment feverishly about the news brought from yonder. He, who formerly had hidden his regret o

e, Claude, would tell a few plain truths and no mistake, when he met him. What! the turn-coat had competed for the Prix de Rome, which, of course, he had managed to miss. To think of it. That fellow did nothing but jeer at the School, and talked about knocking everything down, yet took part in official competitions! Ah, there was no doubt but that the itching to succeed, the wish to pass over one's comrades and be hailed by idiots, impelled some people to very dirty tricks. Surely Christine did not mean to stick up for him, eh? She was not sufficie

Claude rose up and said, in a churlish voice: 'Oh,

d. Another torment had invincibly seized hold

among the ruck, was also of a pretty sunny tone. Then there was nothing else, nothing but Fagerolles' picture-an actress in front of her looking-glass painting her face. He had not mentioned it at first; but he now spoke of it with indignant laughter. What a trickster that Fagerolles was! Now that he had missed his prize he was no longer afraid to exhibit-he threw the School overboard; but you should have seen how skilfully he manage

ed while he grew angr

we might go b

'One can never say a word to you but

by his master, Dequersonniere, who had quietly obtained this medal for him from the jury over which he presided. Then the best of it was that this long-awaited reward had decided the marriage. Ah! it would be nice trafficking if medals were now awarded to settle needy pupils in rich families! Old Margaillan, like all parvenus, had set his heart upon having a son-in-law who could help him, by bringing authentic diplomas and fashionable clothes into the business; and for some time past he had had

oney to marry that wretched fl

assionately took the

ad the stupid ambition to marry a girl of the middle-classes. Her father, you know, has the vitiated blood of generations of drunkards in his veins, and her mo

good-natured fellow of earlier days. Then, having calmed down, he professed to understand things, saying that he appro

thing by, and had bought some house linen. On the other hand, little Jacques, by now two years and a half old, got on admirably in the country. From morning till night he rolled about the garden, ragged and dirt-begrimed, but growing as he listed in robust ruddy health. His mother often did not know where to take hold of him when she wished to wash him a bit. However, w

for the plateau, the vast stretch of land planted with apple trees that overlooked the village, it became like a distant country, something too far off for one to be silly enough to risk one's legs there. Their house also annoyed them-that barracks where they had to take their meals amid the greasy refuse of the kitchen, where their room seemed a meeting-place for the winds from every point of the compass. As a finishing stroke of bad luck, the apricots had failed that year, and the finest of the giant rose-bushes, which were very old, had been smitten with some canker or other and d

assion because dinner was not ready. He turned that goose of a Melie out of the house and c

, let us go b

ied in an angry voice: 'What,

warmly. 'It's I who ask it of y

tired of bei

ant you to work. I feel quite certain that your place is there.

leave

der that they might not triumph without him, in order that he might become their chief again, since not one of them had strength or pride enough to be such. And amid this hallucination, amid the desire he felt to hasten to Paris, he yet persisted in ref

citedly. 'I shall get our bo

nd sending their chattels to the

as if she were leaving something of herself behind-what, she could not say. How willingly would she have remained! how ardent was her wish to live there always-she who had just insisted on that departure, that return to the city of passion where she s