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"Portraits bring five hundred francs apiece," went on Elie; "so you can very well afford to paint me three pictures." "True for you!" cried Fougeres, gleefully. "And if you marry the girl, you won't forget me." "Marry! I?" cried Pierre Grassou, "I, who have a habit of sleeping alone; and get up at cock-crow, and all my life arranged "
But by a not very unusual train of circumstance, the man's dexterity was partial and circumscribed. Whistler; on board a brig he was Pierre Grassou. Again and again in the course of the morning, he had reasoned out his policy and rehearsed his orders; and ever with the same depression and weariness.
The dealer did not come as he had promised. It was getting late; Agathe dined that day with Madame Desroches, who had lately lost her husband, and Joseph proposed to Pierre Grassou to dine at his table d'hote. As he went out he left the key of his studio with the concierge. An hour later Philippe appeared and said to the concierge,
The mother thought only of her son; she herself counted for nothing; sustained by love, she was unaware of her sufferings. D'Arthez, Michel Chrestien, Fulgence Ridal, Pierre Grassou, and Bianchon often kept Joseph company, and she heard them talking art in a low voice in a corner of her room.
I was saying to Grassou only yesterday: 'What comforts me in the midst of my trials is that I have such a good mother. She is all that an artist's wife should be; she sees to everything; she takes care of my material wants without ever troubling or worrying me." "No, Joseph, no; you have loved me, but I have not returned you love for love.
"A great artist," answered Grassou. There was silence for a moment. "Are you quite sure," said Virginie, "that he has done no harm to my portrait? He frightened me." "He has only done it good," replied Grassou. "Well, if he is a great artist, I prefer a great artist like you," said Madame Vervelle. The ways of genius had ruffled up these orderly bourgeois.
To play him a trick, Joseph, when he heard his knock, put the copy, which was varnished with a special glaze of his own, in place of the original, and put the original on his easel. Pierre Grassou was completely taken in; and then amazed and delighted at Joseph's success. "Do you think it will deceive old Magus?" he said to Joseph. "We shall see," answered the latter.
This is the more remarkable because the bourgeois feeling treated, by the way, admirably in Balzac's short story "Pierre Grassou" has long been the curse of English art, and, as represented by the Royal Academy, still remains a paramount power for evil.
He showed his grand haggard face as he looked about him, casting everywhere the lightning of his glance; then he walked round the whole studio, and returned abruptly to Grassou, pulling his coat together over the gastric region, and endeavouring, but in vain, to button it, the button mould having escaped from its capsule of cloth. "Wood is dear," he said to Grassou. "Ah!" "Hold your tongue!"
Above the three or four rooms occupied by Grassou of Fougeres was his studio, looking over to Montmartre. This studio was painted in brick-color, for a background; the floor was tinted brown and well frotted; each chair was furnished with a bit of carpet bound round the edges; the sofa, simple enough, was clean as that in the bedroom of some worthy bourgeoise.
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