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There were some extraordinary bits among them. The landscapes he brought back from the south and the academy studies he painted at Boutin's a girl's legs and a woman's trunk, for instance. Oh, that trunk! Old Malgras must have it. A magisterial study it was, which not one of our "young masters" could paint. Yes, yes, the fellow was no fool simply a great painter.
I met him out walking; but though I recognized him, he could not possibly guess who I was. We went into a tavern together. In there, when I told him my name, Boutin's mouth opened from ear to ear in a roar of laughter, like the bursting of a mortar. That mirth, monsieur, was one of the keenest pangs I have known. It told me without disguise how great were the changes in me!
I was, then, unrecognizable even to the humblest and most grateful of my former friends! "I had once saved Boutin's life, but it was only the repayment of a debt I owed him. I need not tell you how he did me this service; it was at Ravenna, in Italy. The house where Boutin prevented my being stabbed was not extremely respectable.
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