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I endeavoured to force a sceptical smile. “After all, monsieur, I’m not bound to believe you. ”

“Evidently!” And he rubbed his forehead and looked gloomily round the room. “But one thing I can tell you”——fixing me suddenly with his extraordinary eyes, which seemed to expand and glow with the vividness of prevision——"the day will come when people will fight for the honour of having believed me, and of having been the first.’I discovered him——I always said so. But for me you’d have let the poor devil starve!’ You’ll hear the chorus! So now’s your chance, mademoiselle! Here I stand, a man of genius if there ever was one, without a sou, without a friend, without a ray of reputation. Believe in me now, and you’ll be the first, by many a day. You’d find it easier, you’ll say, if I had a little more modesty. I assure you I don’t go about blowing my trumpet in this fashion every day. This morning I’m in a kind of fever,, and I’ve reached a crisis. I must do something——even make an ass of myself! I can’t go on devouring my own heart. You see for these three months I’ve beenà sec. I haven’t dined every day. Perhaps a sinking at the stomach is propitious to inspiration: certainly, week by week, my brain has grown clearer, my imagination more restless, my desires more boundless, my visions more splendid! Within the last fortnight my last doubt has vanished, and I feel as strong as the sun in heaven! I roam about the streets and lounge in the public gardens for want of a better refuge, and everything I look at——the very sunshine in the gutter, the chimney-pots against the sky——seems a picture, a subject, an opportunity! I hang over the balustrade that runs before the pictures at the Louvre, and Titian and Correggio seem to turn pale, like people when you’ve guessed their secret. I don’t know who the author of this masterpiece may be, but I fancy he would have more talent if he weren’t so sure of his dinner. Do you know how I learned to look at things and use my eyes? By staring at the charcutier’swindows when my pockets were empty. it’s a great lesson to learn even the shape of a sausage and the colour of a ham. This gentleman, it’s easy to see, hasn’t noticed such matters. He goes by the sense of taste. Voilà le monde! I——I——I——”——and he slapped his forehead with a kind of dramatic fury——"here as you see me——ragged, helpless, hopeless, with my soul aching with ambition and my fingers itching for a brush——and he, standing up here after a good breakfast, in this perfect light, among pictures and tapestries and carvings, with you in your blooming beauty for a model, and painting that——sign-board. ”

His violence was startling; I didn’t know what might come next, and I took up my bonnet and mantle. He immediately protested with ardour. “A moments reflection, mademoiselle, will tell you that, with the appearance I present, I don’t talk about your beautypour vous faire la cour. I repeat with all respect, you’re a model to make a painters fortune. I doubt if you’ve many attitudes or much flexibility; but for once——the portrait of Mlle. X. ——you’re perfect. ”

“I’m obliged to you for your——information,” I answered gravely. “You see my artist is chosen. I expect him here at any moment, and I won’t answer for his listening to you as patiently as I have done. ”

“He’s coming?” cried my visitor. “Quelle chance! I shall be charmed to meet him. I shall vastly enjoy seeing the human head from which that conception issued. I see him already: I construct the author from the work. He’s tall and blond, with eyes very lunch the colour of his own china-blue there. He wears straw-coloured whiske
rs, and doubtless he paints in straw-coloured gloves. In short, he’sun homme magnifique!”