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Updated: May 14, 2025
Irma had stationed herself in front of the picture, and looked at it with a knowing air. 'Oh! I see, she said, 'that woman in the grass, eh? Do you think I could be of any use to you? Jory flared up in a moment, warmly approving the idea, but Claude with the greatest energy replied, 'No, no madame wouldn't suit. She is not at all what I want for this picture; not at all.
When he realised that his time was badly chosen, and that he would be able to take nothing away with him, he went off, bowing with an air of gratitude, and repeating remarks of admiration as far as the landing. As soon as he had gone, Jory, who had listened to the conversation with surprise, ventured to ask a question: 'But you told us, I thought It isn't sold, is it?
Sandoz declared that her name of Becot was very well suited for a novel; Claude asked whether she would consent to pose for a sketch; while Mahoudeau already pictured her as a Paris gamin, a statuette that would be sure to sell. She soon went off, however, and behind the gentleman's back she wafted kisses to the whole party, a shower of kisses which quite upset the impressionable Jory.
Their voices, at first mere whispers, gradually grew louder, till at last they began to shout. 'Oh! the man, I abandon the man to you, said Jory, who was speaking of Fagerolles. 'He isn't worth much. And he out-generalled you, it's true. Ah! how he did get the better of you fellows, by breaking off from you and carving success for himself on your backs! You were certainly not at all cute.
The artist was robbed, no doubt, but what did that matter, if he had painted a masterpiece, and had some water to drink? Jory, having again expressed some low ideas about lucre, aroused general indignation. Out with the journalist! He was asked stringent questions. Would he sell his pen? Would he not sooner chop off his wrist than write anything against his convictions?
Then Chaine remained alone with Mathilde in the damp shop, amidst the heaps of clay and the puddles of water, while the chalky light from the whitened windows glared crudely over all the wretched untidiness. Meantime the four others, Claude and Mahoudeau, Jory and Sandoz, strolled along, seeming to take up the whole width of the Boulevard des Invalides.
In front of the Corps Legislatif the painter remarked, with an air of disgust: 'What a hideous pile! 'Jules Favre made a fine speech the other day. How he did rile Rouher, said Jory. However, the others left him no time to proceed, the disputes began afresh. 'Who was Jules Favre? Who was Rouher? Did they exist?
Staggering, and as if pursued by the tempest upstairs, Claude disappeared behind the clumps of shrubbery in the garden. But two hours later Sandoz, who after losing Mahoudeau had just found him again with Jory and Fagerolles, perceived the unhappy painter again standing in front of his picture, at the same spot where he had met him the first time.
'Ah! my friend, what clouts Jory would receive on getting home! The novelist now asked for the bill. All the tables were becoming vacant; there only remained a litter of bones and crusts. A couple of waiters were wiping the marble slabs with sponges, whilst a third raked up the soiled sand.
'Ah! said Jory, jocularly, on entering the gallery, 'what an ice-well! One can breathe here. They all took off their hats and wiped their foreheads, with a feeling of relief, as if they had reached some big shady trees after a long march in full sunlight. The gallery was empty.
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