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Updated: May 10, 2025
When Lewis was alone with his father, he asked: "Does Lady Derl belong to the Old Guard?" "You wouldn't think it, but she does," said Leighton, "inside." "My boy," said Leighton to Lewis two days later, as they were threading a narrow street in the shadow of Montmartre, "you will meet in a few moments Le Brux, the only living sculptor. You will call him Maître from the start.
It was true that when others were around, Le Brux treated him as though he were a scullion or at least a poor relative living on his bounty, for the great sculptor was in dread lest it be noised about that he had at last taken a pupil. But when they were alone, he made up for all his brutality by a certain tenderness which he was at great pains to dissemble.
"Ah, Létonne," he interrupted, "our old friendship is dead dead by violence. Friends have said things to me before, called me names, and I have stood it. But none of them ever dared call me a palimpsest. Thou hast called me a palimpsest!" Leighton seemed not to hear. "Somebody," he continued, "that will carry on the mighty tradition of Le Brux.
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