His Masterpiece

he Palais de l'Industrie the previous day, was roaming roun

, old fellow? What's becoming of you? What are

sent to the Salon-that little canvas whi

it "hung" for you. You know that I'm a can

ad just invested the exhibitors with the privilege of electing the members of the hanging committee; and this had quite upset the world of painters and scul

I'm settled in my little house, in which you haven't yet set foot, in spite of

t its frontage, a bit of coquettish, precioso architectural tracery-the exact copy of a Renaissance house at Bourges, with lattice windows, a staircase tower, and a roof decked with leaden ornaments. It looked like the abode of a harlot; and Claude was struck with surprise wh

st a shade of respect in his tone. 'She has

a red dragon. Then there was a staircase of carved wood above which banners drooped, whilst tropical plants rose up like plumes. Overhead, the studio was a marvel, though rather small and without a picture visible. The walls, indeed, were entirely covered with Oriental hangings, while at one end rose up

res go for less than twenty, thirty, forty thousand francs. Orders would have fallen on the painter's shoulders as thick as hail, if he had not affected the disdain, the weariness of the man whose slightest sketches are fought for. And yet all this display of luxury smacked of indebtedness, there was only so much paid on account to the upholsterers; all the money-the money wo

. Excepting a rosewood tube case and box of crayons, forgotten on an article of fu

be amiable, as he stood in front of the little

d Naudet also opposed it. But what would you have done? I was so begged and prayed; all the young fellows want to set me on the committee, so that I may defend them. Oh! my picture is simple enough-I call i

of Claude, who was looking at him fixedly, he lost countenanc

k-a little of what you have too much of, old man. You know that I'm st

his old-time caresses-all the wheedling practices of a hussy. Very sincerely and with a sort of anxious deference he a

n of their charms. And one should have seen the painter play his part as a candidate, shaking hands most lavishly, saying to one visitor: 'Your picture this year is so pretty, it pleases me so much!' then feigning astonishment with another: 'What! you haven't had a medal yet?' and r

nt when they happened to be left alone. 'Wh

of the house over the way a woman clad in a lace dressing-gown could be distinguished waving her handkerc

amid the silence which fell Fage

ond. We have a complete system of telegrap

eced by her, bled at every moment of some good round sum, which she sent her maid to ask for-now to pay a tradesman, now to satisfy a whim, often for nothing at all, or rather for the sole p

les was shuffling about impatiently, loo

led-that is, unless I'm not elected. Come to the Palais de l'Industrie on the evening the voting-papers are c

g a long walk. He might as well go there as elsewhere, for while waiting for the Salon he had altogether ceased work. He himself could not vote, as to do so it was necessary to have been 'hung' on at least one occasion. However, he repeatedly passed before the Palais de l'Industrie,* the foot pavement in front of which interested him with its bustling aspect, its procession of artist electors, whom men in dirty blouses caught hold of, shouting to them th

ny years the home of

International Exhi

connection with

lery, and entire trees were burning in the monumental fireplace at one end of it. Some four or five hundred electors, who had remained to see the votes counted, stood there, mingled with friends and inquisitive strangers, talking, laughing, and setting quite a storm loose under the lofty ceiling. Around the table, parties of people who had volunteered to cou

he thick of it since the morning, was gesticulating and

ne more man here! Come, som

ng Claude, he darted forward

e by sitting down there and helping us!

ose, noted each successive vote that each candidate obtained. And all this went on amidst a most frightful uproar, twenty and thirty names being called out at the same time by different voices, above the continuous rumbling of the crowd. As Claude could never do anything without throwing passion into it, he waxed excited, became despondent whenever a voting-paper did not bear Fagerolles' name, and grew happy as soon as he had to shout out that name

re hastily emptied, the men stuffed themselves with whatever they were lucky enough to get hold of, and there was a free-and-easy kind of Kermesse in that huge hall which the logs in the fireplace lit up with a forge-like glow. Then they all smoked, and the smoke set a kind of mist around the yellow light from the lamps, whilst on the floor trailed all the spoilt voting-papers thrown away during the polling;

owever, some more people arrived, loungers in dress-coats and white ties, who had come from some theatre or soiree and wished to learn the result of the voting

scientiousness which he displayed delaying him to such a point that the other parties had long since finished their work, while his was still a maze of figures. At last all the additions were centralised and the definite result proclaimed. Fagerolles was elected, co

f shame restrained him. Besides, as the committee proceeded in alphabetical order, nothing perhaps was yet decided. However, one evening, on the B

and, who seemed embarrassed. He

erything isn't lost. Fagerolles and I are on the watch. Still, you must rely on Fage

the very first day; one of them could never ask for the admission of a picture without the other one voting for its rejection. Fagerolles, who had been elected secretary, had, on the contrary, made himself Mazel's amuser, his vice, and Mazel forgave his old pupil's defection, so skilfully did the renegade flatter him. Moreover, the young master, a

st as possible, the worst canvases being rejected without going to the vote. At times, however, discussions delayed the party, there came a ten minutes' quarrel, and some picture which caused a dispute was reserved for the evening revision. Two men, holding a cord some thirty feet long, kept it stretched at a distance of four paces from the line of pictures, so as to restrain the committee-men, who kept on pushing each other in the heat of their dispute, and whose stomachs, despite everything, were ever pressing against the cord. Behind the committee marched seventy museum-keepers in whi

as carried on. In order that nobody might be forgotten amid the hailstorm of applications which fell upon the committee-men, most of them carried little note-books, which they consulted; and they promised to vote for certain exhibitors whom a colleague pro

pression goes-being ranged, ten or twelve together, on a kind of trestle covered with green baize. A good many committee-men then grew absent-minded, several wrote their letters, and the president had to get angry to obtain presentable majoritie

soon as he mentioned his friend's name. He complained, moreover, that he could get no help from Bongrand, who did not carry a pocket-book, and who was so clumsy, too, that he spoilt the best causes by his outbursts of unseasonable frankness. A score of times already would Fagerolles have forsaken Claude, had it not been for his obstinate desire to try his power over

ting the brigadier had come to him, saying: 'There was a mistake yesterday, Monsieur Maz

f those artists who,

at previous Salons,

s they lived, the co

ir work however ba

he work of an old classical painter highly respected by the Institute; and the brigadier's fright, and the amusing circumstance of a p

felt were disastrous for the authority of the Sch

't so surprising, there was an intolerable noise yesterday. How can one

bell furious

hing is ready-a little g

others attracted Mazel's attention, so bad did he consider it, so sharp in tone as to make one's very teeth grat

ne of his friends, an artist who, like himself, was a rampart of healthy p

o. 1, eh,

to be hung on the line. Only, some of the committee-men laughed and nu

nded by making them cautious, and so with furtive glances they made sure of the artist's name before expressing any opinion. Besides, whenever a colleague's work, some fellow committee-man's su

ide in order to try to move him with a sentimental story about an unfortunate father with three daughters, who were starving. But the president let himself be entreated for a long while, saying that a man shouldn't waste his time painting when he was dying for lack of food, and that he

ter's a relative of his, I think; at all events

ised their hands, and a large majority d

tle. Were they to have the Morgue sent to them now? said some. And while the old men drew back in alarm, the younger

lost. At first he tried to spirit the vote away

emen, an old

low who posed for being a genius, and who had talked about demolishing the Salon, without even sending a picture that it was possible to accept. All their hatred of independent originality, of

ing irritated, yielding to the anger he felt at

at least, be im

d and jostled, arms waved about him in threatening fash

r the committ

, it's simply to get your

petent to speak

losing even the pliancy of his

mpetent as

tle painter with a fair complexion. 'You surely do

conviction-that word which they usually cast at the very wo

Fagerolles, clenching his

Mazel had been ringing his bell, extremel

rdinary that one can't settle matters w

-hearted man. Why should not they admit that little picture, altho

men, the vote

t, with the blood rising to his cheeks in the anger he was trying to restrain, abruptly went off

ot four among us capable of tur

dge-hammer blow had come upon them w

ked for,' curtly repeated

l his latent hatred of Bongrand, the fierce rivalry that

in the depths of their ravaged pride there were wounds which always bled; they sec

s, and 'The Dead Child,' being rejected, could

dants devised little paths-they were like an inundation, a deluge, which rose up, streamed over the whole Palais de l'Industrie, and submerged it beneath the murky flow of all the mediocrity and madness to be found in the river of Art. And but a single afternoon sitting was held, from one till seven o'clock-six hours of wild galloping through a maze! At first they held out against fatigue and strove to keep their vision clear; but the forced march soon made their legs give way, their eyesight was irritated by all the dancing colours, and yet it was still necessary to march on, to look and judge, even until they broke down with fatigue. By four o'clock the march was like a rout-the scattering of a defeat

sted. A joker pretended to stumble and set his foot in the middle of the canvas, while others trotted along the surrounding little p

imself also

ne it, you'll be repaid for your trouble. Really now, g

, but with cruel laughter they refused

for your "charity"

e, and it was thereupon admitted without examination. As a rule, the bounty of this admission was bestowed upon poor artists. The forty paintings thu

uch embarrassed; 'the fact is, I meant to take another

er displaying the least gallantry. And Fagerolles remained perplexed, for the 'lady' in question was a person whom Irma took an interes

ght very well take this funny li

rt, indignant at all the bar

at fashion? Let him be prouder, dash it

ctory should remain to him, made up his mind, with a proud air, like a m

take it for my "c

he brave fellow who had the courage of his opinions! And an attendant carried away in his arms the poor derided, jolted, soiled can

itying style, that all the humiliating features of the business were apparent to him. For a moment he felt sorry over this victory, so much so that he would have liked to take his work back and hide it. Then his delicacy of feeling, his artistic pride again gave way, so much did protracted waiting for success make his wretched h

the newspaper press, the streets, and the public had belonged to the artists. They held Paris in their grasp; the only matters talked of were themselves, their exhibits, their sayings or doings-in fact, everything connected with them. It was one of those infatuations which at last draw bands of country folk, co

more democratic day of the real inauguration. He even refused to accompany Sandoz. But he was consumed by such a fever, that after all he started off abruptly at eight o'clock in t

't worry, whatever

the right; and then a variety of portraits, landscapes, and indoor scenes, all glaring sharply amid the fresh gilding of their frames. However, the fear which he retained of the folks usually present at this solemnity led him to direct his glances upon the gradually increasing crowd. On a circular settee in the centre of the gallery, from which sprang a sheaf of tropical foliage, there sat three ladies, three monstrously fat creatures, attired in an abominable fashion, who had settled there to indulge in a whole day's backbiting. Behind him he heard somebody crushing harsh syllables in a hoarse voice. It was an Englishman in a check-pattern jacket, explaining the massacre scene to a yellow woman buried in the depths of a travelling ulster. There were some vacant spaces; groups of people formed, scattered, and formed again further on

d with the desire to advertise himself, who had been working for a medal, and who was now pouncing upon all the visitors possessed of any influence and forcibly taking them to see his pictures. Then there was a celebrated and wealthy painter who received his visitors in front of his work with a smile of triumph on his lips, showing himself compromisingly gallant with the ladies, who formed quite a court around him. And there were all the others: the rivals who execrated one another, although they shouted words of praise in full voices; the savage fellows who covertly watched their comrades' success from the corner of a doorway; the timid ones whom one could not for an empire induce to pass through the gallery where their pictures were hung; the jokers who hid the bitter mortification of their defeat under an amusing witticism; the sincere ones who were absorbed in contemplation, trying to understan

sewhere. So when he had reached the large eastern gallery, he set off along a number of other little ones, a secluded suite visited by very few people, where the pictures seemed to frown with boredom. And there again he found nothing. Bewildered, distracted,

eed, that the fear which had made him tremble was changed into contempt. Were these the people, then, who were going to jeer at his picture, provided it were found again? Two little reporters with fair complexions were completing a list of persons whose names they intended to mention. A critic pretended to take some notes on the margin of his catalogue; another was holding forth in professor's style in the centre of a party of beginners; a third, all by himself, with his hands behind his back, seemed rooted to one spot, crushing each work beneath his august impassibility. And what especially struck Claude was th

he assault of the petty painters of his set who found their pictures badly hung. It was the usual scamper of the first moment, everybody looking for everybody else, rushing to see one another and bursting into recriminations-noisy, interminable fury. Either the picture was too high up, or the light did not fall upon it properly, or the paintings near it destroyed its effect; in fact, some talked of unhooking their works and carrying them off. One tall thin fellow was especially tenacious, going

ected that he must have skipped a whole suite of galleries on the right-hand side; and, indeed, there were fresh leagues of painting there. He ended by reaching a gallery where a stifling crowd was massed in front of a large picture which filled the central panel of honour. At first he

ipping his three women; but, clad in the audacious toilets of women of society, they showed no little of their persons. As for the two gallant gentlemen in summer jackets beside them, they realised the ideal of everything most distingue; while afar off a footman was pulling a hamper off the box of a landau drawn up behind the trees. The whole of it, t

he line, the art of letting things be guessed, the respect due to the public, the approval of good society! And withal such delicacy, such charm and art! He did not unseasonably deliver himself of passionate things of exuberant design; no, when he had taken three notes from natur

he gilding of the frames acquired a warm sunshiny tint. Claude at once recognised the people who had formerly derided him-if these were not the same, they were at least their relatives-serious, however, and enraptured, their appearance greatly improved by their respectful attention. The evil look, the weariness, which he had at first remarked on their faces, as envious bile drew their skin together and dyed it yellow, disappeared here while they enjoyed the treat of an amiable lie. Two fat ladies, open-mouthed, were yawning with satisfaction.

s. Before long the predominant odour suggested that of a wet dog. It must have been raining outside; one of those sudden spring showers had no doubt fallen, for the last arrivals brought moisture with them-their clothes hung about them heavily and seemed to steam as soon as they encountered the heat of the gallery. And, indeed, patches of darkness had for a moment been passing above the awning of the roof. Cl

irl, with relatives and friends straggling among fields of rye and oats. Bongrand had wrestled with himself, saying that people should see if he were done for, if the experience of his sixty years were not worth all the lucky dash of his youth; and now experience was defeated, the picture was destined to be a mournful failure, like the silent fall of an old man, which does not even stay passers-by in their onward course. There were still some masterly bits, the choirboy holding the cross, the group of daughters of the Virgin carrying the bier, whose white dresses and ruddy flesh furnished a pretty contrast with the black Sunday toggery of the rustic mourners,

the old painter must have been acutely conscious of his fall. If he had so far been devoured by the fear of slow decline, it was because he still doubted; and now he obtained sudden certainty; he was surviving his reputation, his talent was dead, he would never more

catch you at it-a

on his part, so unworthy they were of his powerful hands; but he was none the less radiant, feeling certain that he had turned

, but looked at him wit

Have you seen it? The little fellows of nowadays may t

ollowed by his court and bow

with grief, as indignant as at the outburs

y to flee from this gallery? And he determined to show his

if I went into ecstasies over his picture, which I scarcely like; but he himself is re

d a word of admiration f

ound is so pretty!' he said at las

terrupted him i

dolence, my friend, eh

he awaited the visits of the American amateurs whom he charged fifty thousand francs for a picture which he himself had purchased for ten thousand. Moreover, he lived in princely style, with a wife and children, a mistress, a country estate in Picardy, and extensive shooting grounds. His first large profits had come from the rise in value of works left by illustrious artists, now defunct, whose talent had been denied while they lived, such as Courbet, Millet, and Rousseau; and this had ended by making him disdain any picture signed by a still struggling artist. However, ominous rumours w

had drawn near. 'So you have come, like

ishing it as he would have furnished a place for a hussy, running him into debt with supplies of carpets and nick-nacks, so that he might afterwards hold him at his mercy; and now he began to accuse him of lacking orderliness and seriousness, of compromising himself like a feather-brain. Take that picture, for instance, a s

would have given twenty thousand francs out of my pocket to prevent those

his sufferings, was lis

discretion too far. I read an article yesterday in which I

he resided, how he lived, even revealing the colour of his socks, and mentioning a habit he had of pinching his nose. And he was the passion of the hour, the 'young master' according to the tastes of the day, one who had been lucky enough to miss the Prix de Rome, and break off with the School of Arts, whose principles, however, he retained. After all, the success of that

noticed the 'V

to give a companion to the "Wedding"? Well, I should hav

only cognisant of the vogue which that youngster, unworthy of cleaning his palette, had so suddenly and easily acquired, that vogue which seemed to be pushing him, Bongrand, into oblivion-h

ivined. Was he falling to the baseness of envy? Anger with himself made him raise his head-a man should d

better if I had gone to bed on the day wh

xcuse me!' cried th

oking for somebody; he made a sign to a young man, and gave him an answer, a favourable one, no doubt, for the other brimmed over with gratitude. Then two other persons sprang forward to congratulate him;

ch other with the tips of their umbrellas, from which dripped the water left by the showers outside. And Bongrand remained there out of pride, erect in defeat, firmly planted on his legs, those of an old combatant, and gazing with limpid eyes upon ungrateful Paris. He wished to finish like a brave man, whose kindness of heart is boundless. Clau

there not some gallery where people grinned, some corner full of noise and banter, some gathering of jesting spectators, insulting a picture? That picture would assuredly be h

le, poised like a swallow at the corner of a frame-the monumental frame of an immense painting five-and-thirty feet long, representing the Deluge, a swarming of yellow figures turning topsy-turvy in water of the hue of wine lees. On the left, moreover, there was a pitiable ashen portrait of a general; on the right a colossal nymph in a moonlit landscape, the bloodless corpse of a murdered woman rotting away on some grass; and everywhere

s twisted among the bedclothes, like the bent claws of a bird killed by cold! And the bed itself, that pallidity of the sheets, below the pallidity of the limbs, all that white looking so sad, those tints fading away as if

held him again over yonder in the country, so fresh and pinky, as he rolled about in the grass; then in the Rue de Douai, growing pale and stupid by degrees, and then in the Rue Tourlaque, no longer able to carry his head, and dying one night, all alone, while his mother was asleep; and he beheld her also, that mother, the sad woman who had s

toration: this was death. The visitors filed rapidly through the long gallery, seized with boredom. There were merely some people in front of the 'Opening of the Chamber,' where they collected to read the inscriptions, and show each other the deputies' heads. At last, hearing some laughter behind him, he turned round; but

nd the other thin, and both of them decorated with the Legion of Honour, sat talking, reclining ag

went along the Rue St. Honore, the Rue St. Roch, t

ked the thin man, who appea

raid of getti

rather than such torturing silence! And he almost suffocated when he saw a young married couple approach, the husband a good-looking fellow with little fair moustaches, the wife, charming, with the delicate slim figure of a shepherdess in Dresden china. She had percei

police oughtn't to

tinuous flow of the crowd which passed on, quite indifferent, without one glance for that unique

, when they had lived side by side, he remembered their efforts, their certainty of coming glory, that fine irresistible, immoderate appetite that had made them talk of swallowing Paris at one bite! How many times, at that period, had he seen in Claude a great man, whose unbridled genius would leave the talent of all others far behind in the rear! First had come the studio of the Impasse des Bourdonnais; later, the studio of the Quai de Bourbon, with dreams of vast compositi

by, and fraternal emotion made h

Why did you refuse t

gise. He seemed very tired, ov

with me. Some people were to wait for me at Ledoyen's; but I shall give them the go

s arm, pressing it, warming it, and tryi

But you are not dead yet, it will be for later on. And, just look, you ought to be proud, for it's you who really triumph at the Salon this year. Fagerolles isn't the only one who pillages you; they al

y tinge,' even in the portraits and the genre scenes, which had acquired the dimensions and the serious character of historical paintings. The old academical subjects had disappeared with the cooked juices of tradition, as if the condemned doctrine had carried its people of shadows away with it; rare were the works of pure imagination, the cadaverous nudities of mythology and catholicism, the legendary subjects painted without faith, the anecdotic bits destitute of life-in fact, all the bric-a-brac of the School of Arts used up by generations of

d fellow!' continued Sandoz. 'The art of to-m

th, and, with an air of gloomy

I haven't made myself? See here, it's too big

a precursor, the one who sows the idea without reaping the glory, his grief at seeing himself pillaged, devoured by men who turned out hasty work, by a whole flight of fellows who s

Then, to divert Claude, he stopped him wh

ses and the animation of the galleries in former times? Not a painting then withstood the shock. And yet now there are some which don't suffe

ring with unutte

id. 'Take me away-I can

und, and but partially visible in the darkness, stood three dressers displaying dishes of preserved fruit symmetrically ranged on shelves; while, nearer at hand, at counters placed on the right and left, two ladies, a dark one and a fair one, watched the crowd wi

darted forward and conquered the vacan

ere at all events. Wha

and, in addition, one had to fight to get served; for the hustled waiters, losing their heads, remained in distress in the narrow passages which the chairs were constantly blocking. Behind the ha

okery, made one gay. People jested about the dishes, different tables fraternised together, common misfortune brought about a kind of pleasure party. Strangers ended by sympathising; friends kept up conversations, although they were seated three rows distant from one another, and

his meat, raised his voice amid the terrible

eh? And let's try

of romanticism which irritated one by its stupid assumption of patriotism; the trunk of a woman hanging by the wrists, some Andromeda of the Place Pigalle; and others, and others still following the bends of the pathways; rows of shoulders and hips, heads, breasts, legs, and arms, all mingling and growing indistinct in the distance. On the left stretched a line of busts-such delightful ones-furnishing a most

e Tuileries, and occupied themselves exclusively with criticising those of their own sex who passed by. Two female friends quickened their pace, laughing. Another woman, all alone, walked up and down, mute, with a black look in her eyes. Some others, who had lost one another, met again, and began ejaculating about the adventure. And, meantime, the dark moving mass of men came to a standstill, then set off again till it stopped short before a bit of marble, or eddied back to a bit of bronze. And among the mere bourgeois, who were few in number, though all of them looked out of their element there, moved men with celebrated names-all the illustrations of Paris. A name of resounding glory re-echoed as a fat, ill-clad gentleman passed by; the winged name of a poet followed as a pale man with a flat, common face approached. A living wave was rising from this crowd in the even, colourless light when suddenly a flash of sunshine, from behind the clouds of a final shower, set the glass panes on high aflame, making the stained window on the western side resplendent, and raining down in golden particles through the still atmosphe

had turned round, said to Clau

by without noticing their friends, and the journalist, continuing i

Child"! Ah! the poor d

latter, having caught sight of his

eh? You know that I haven't yet seen you

e. What an idea! Everything is so awfully bad. We two have just come from Ledoyen's. Oh! s

came smilingly contemplative when her husband had whispered his name in her ear. And the tall, thin fellow, the artist whose picture had been badly hung, and who had pursued him sinc

some indistinct threats: 'It's true; a fellow does all he can to be obliging, but those chaps would drive one mad! All of them on the "lin

th his oppressed air, seemed to w

ou to thank you. Bongrand told me about a

lles hasti

o our old friendship. It's I who am del

d master of his youth, that kind of humility which filled him perforce when he was wi

owly added Claude, who wished t

ble emotion, springing he knew not whence; and this rascal, who believed in

ah! it's very kind of

sed, and one woman's laughter rang out so loudly that every head turned round. The men were smoking, and a bluish cloud slowly rose above the straggling tablecloths, stained by wine and littered with dirty plates and dishes. When Fagerolles, on his aide, succeeded in

my marriage. On account of our position we managed it on the quiet without inviting any

usly, and he had risen to the editorship of a prominent art review, on which, so it was asserted, he made thirty thousand francs a year, without mentioning certain profits realised by shady trafficking in the sale of art collections. The middle-class rapacity which he had inherited from h

brought him to the point of begging her, with tears in his eyes, to becom

onsent at first-yes, it's a fact-for fear of being misjudged and of doing me harm. Oh! she has such grandeur, such delicacy of mind! No, nobody can have an idea of that woman's qualities. Devoted, taking all possible ca

, every form of sourish virtue. It was said that they had been seen taking the Holy Communion together at Notre Dame de Lorette. They kissed one another before other people, and called each other by endearing nicknames. Only, of an evening, he

of conclusion he exclaimed: 'And so we waited

ing, and who had merely nodded without li

rried her-mar

au's shop. That Jory, why, he could still hear him talking about Mathilde in an abominable manner; and yet he had married her! It

past, never showed the slightest embarrassment when his comrades' eyes were turned on him. Besides, M

, greatly interested by this fine business, cal

eh? My legs are

ight blue brocaded silk, with a satin skirt covered with Alencon lace, of such richness that quite an escort of gentlemen followed her in admiration. On perceiving Claude among the others, she hesitated for a moment, seized, as it were, with cowardly shame in front o

f with Irma, whom Jory also decided to follow. Claude watched them walk away together, she between the

e,' quietly remarked Sandoz. 'Ah! my friend, w

e wiping the marble slabs with sponges, whilst a third raked up the soiled sand. Behind the brown serge hangings the staff of the establishment was

arcely as tall as a girl ten years old, but charmingly delicate-with slim hips and a tiny bosom, displaying all the exquisite hesitancy of a sprouting bud. The figure seemed to exhale a perfume, that grace which nothing can give, bu

ld not hel

g he could to warp his talent. If his figure were

,' repeated Claude.

ave fancied oneself under a railway bridge. Strong pillars supported the metallic framework, and an icy chillness blew from above, moistening the sand in which one's feet sank. In the distance, behind a torn curtain, one could see rows of statues, the rejected sculptural exhibits, the casts which poor sculptors did not even remove, gathered together i

mad excursions through the galleries as in an enemy's country, the violent disdain they had felt on going away, the discussions which had made their tongues swell and emptied their brains? Nobody now saw Dubuche. Two or three times a month Gagniere came from Melun, in a state of bewilderment, to attend some concert; and he

' resumed Mahoudeau. '

Ah! that terrible rumbling, that devouring gallop of the mo

his hand wit

claimed Sandoz. Take just another tur

. He divined that the poor fellow's courage was exhausted, that he was des

d man: I'll call an

fter losing Mahoudeau had just found him again with Jory and Fagerolles, perceived the unhappy painter again standing in front of his picture, at the sam

the subjects of which alone struck and attracted the crowd. Some went off, came back, and walked about unceasingly. The women were particularly obstinate in not retiring; they seemed determined to remain there till the attendants should push them out when six o'clock began to strike. Some fat ladies had foundered. Others, who had failed to find even the tiniest place to sit down, leaned heavily on their parasols, sinking, but

, the two decorated gentlemen were still chatting quietly, with their minds a hundred leagues away

ne, 'you went in, preten

ne. 'I looked at them and took

really astonish me

im, people's feet trod on his own, he was pushed and carried away; and, like some inert object, he abandoned himself, waved about, and ultimately found himself again on the same spot as before without having once lowered his head, quite ignorant of what was occurr

e the tomb of his wrecked life. Their comrades once more went past in a band. Fagerolles and Jory darted on ahead, and, Mahoudeau h

id he; the public showed no ill-humour; the picture had a good effect, though it was hung perhaps rather hi

table. He had opened a window which overlooked some waste ground, and he stood there, leaning out to such a degr

ude! what ar

s face as white as a she

oking,'

nd after that significant incident such anguish c