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Updated: June 24, 2025
But all modern draughtsmen have been taught a lesson by his painting: Renouard, Toulouse-Lautrec and Steinlen have been impressed by it, and the young generation considers Degas as a master. And that is also the unexpressed idea of the academicians, and especially of those who have sufficient talent to be able to appreciate all the science and power of such an art.
I shall not have the book," he exclaimed, and when I looked round, he said, "I beg your pardon, I hoped to tempt you with a few louis for your bargain, but I have given up the idea at once, and I only ask the double favour of seeing the book and of being allowed to make your acquaintance." Renouard was the historian of the House of Aldus, and naturally became the possessor of some of Grolier's finest books.
"Really. Always the Renouard of shopkeepers' legend. Listen! I would never have been jealous of him. And yet I am jealous of the air you breathe, of the soil you tread on, of the world that sees you moving free not mine. But never mind. I rather liked him. For a certain reason I proposed he should come to be my assistant here. He said he believed this would save him.
What do you think 'Master Arthur' is likely to have taken to?" "Something easy," muttered Renouard without unclenching his teeth. "Hunting man. Athlete. Don't be hard on the chap. He may be riding boundaries, or droving cattle, or humping his swag about the back-blocks away to the devil somewhere. He may be even prospecting at the back of beyond this very moment."
Renouard, however, had lived long enough to reflect that a man's activities, his views, and even his ideas may be very inferior to his character; and moved by a delicate consideration for that splendid girl he tried to think out for the man a character of inward excellence and outward gifts some extraordinary seduction. But in vain.
"Success," muttered Renouard, pulling-to the office door after him with considerable energy. And the letters of the word PRIVATE like a row of white eyes seemed to stare after his back sinking down the staircase of that temple of publicity. Renouard had no doubt that all the means of publicity would be put at the service of love and used for the discovery of the loved man.
Renouard, his hat on his head already, sat down with the disdainful smile of a man who had discounted the moral of the story. He was full of unction. "Imprudent, I should say. In many ways money is as dangerous to handle as gunpowder. You can't be too careful either as to who you are working with. Anyhow there was a mighty flashy burst up, a sensation, and his familiar haunts knew him no more.
A silence fell, and it was as if Renouard were not going to say anything more when, suddenly, he came out with the real object of his visit to the editorial room. "They looked to me like people under a spell." "You omitted to tell me their name, but I can make a guess. You mean Professor Moorsom, his daughter and sister don't you?" Renouard assented. Yes, a white-haired lady.
The feeling for the life of crowds, psychology of types, spirited and rapid notation, astonishing ease in overcoming difficulties these are his undeniable gifts. And again we must recognise in Renouard the example of Degas and Manet. His exceptional fecundity only helps to give more authority to his pencil.
Behind him Willie flung both his hands above his head and let them fall dramatically. Renouard saw the four white-headed people at the end of the terrace rise all together from their chairs with an effect of sudden panic. "I tell you he is found," the patron of letters shouted emphatically. "What is this!" exclaimed Renouard in a choked voice.
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