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Updated: June 9, 2025
Vervelle's friends now heard of nothing but the celebrated painter Fougeres. The day on which Fougeres began the portrait of Mademoiselle Virginie, he was virtually son-in-law to the Vervelle family.
Fougeres glanced at Magus and said: "There's fat in it!" using a slang term then much in vogue in the studios. Hearing those words Monsieur Vervelle frowned. The worthy bourgeois drew after him another complication of vegetables in the persons of his wife and daughter.
During this first sitting the Vervelle family became almost intimate with the worthy artist. They were to come again two days later. As they went away the father told Virginie to walk in front; but in spite of this separation, she overheard the following words, which naturally awakened her curiosity. "Decorated thirty-seven years old an artist who gets orders puts his money with our notary.
"You must earn lots of money; but of course you don't spend it as you get it," said the mother. "No, madame," replied the painter; "I don't spend it; I have not the means to amuse myself. My notary invests my money; he knows what I have; as soon as I have taken him the money I never think of it again." "I've always been told," cried old Vervelle, "that artists were baskets with holes in them."
While the Vervelle family discussed Pierre Grassou, Pierre Grassou discussed in his own mind the Vervelle family. He found it impossible to stay peacefully in his studio, so he took a walk on the boulevard, and looked at all the red-haired women who passed him.
During this sitting there were little skirmishes between the family and the painter, who had the audacity to call pere Vervelle witty. This flattery brought the family on the double-quick to the heart of the artist; he gave a drawing to the daughter, and a sketch to the mother. "What! for nothing?" they said. Pierre Grassou could not help smiling.
"Here, follow these indications," said Bridau, returning the palette, and taking the note. "I won't thank you. I can go back now to d'Arthez' chateau, where I am doing a dining-room, and Leon de Lora the tops of the doors masterpieces! Come and see us." And off he went without taking leave, having had enough of looking at Virginie. "Who is that man?" asked Madame Vervelle.
That night when he went to bed the painter had come to think Virginie Vervelle charming. When the three Vervelles arrived on the day of the second sitting the artist received them with smiles. The rascal had shaved and put on clean linen; he had also arranged his hair in a pleasing manner, and chosen a very becoming pair of trousers and red leather slippers with pointed toes.
The pure country air wafted to the nostrils a most enticing smell of cooking. All things about the mansion seemed to say: "We have a great artist among us." Little old Vervelle himself rolled like an apple through his park, the daughter meandered like an eel, the mother followed with dignified step. These three beings never let go for one moment of Pierre Grassou for seven hours.
"Ah! to be sure, yes." The Vervelle family, extremely shocked by this extraordinary apparition, passed from its ordinary red to a cherry-red, two shades deeper. "Brings in, hey?" continued Joseph. "Any shot in your locker?" "How much do you want?" "Five hundred. I've got one of those bull-dog dealers after me, and if the fellow once gets his teeth in he won't let go while there's a bit of me left.
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