"To be sure--as a badger."
"To say nothing of a club foot, an impediment in her speech, a voice like a raven"s, and a hump like a dromedary"s! Ah! my dear friend, what an amazingly comic fellow you are!"
And the student burst again into a peal of laughter so hearty and infectious that I could not have helped joining in it to save my life.
"And now," said he, when we had laughed ourselves out of breath, "now to the object of my visit. Do you remember asking me, months ago, to make you a copy of an old portrait that you had taken a fancy to in some tumble-down chateau near Montlhery!"
"To be sure; and I have intended, over and over again, to remind you of it. Did you ever take the trouble to go over there and look at it?"
"Look at it, indeed! I should rather think so--and here is the proof.
What does your connoisseurship say to it?"
Say to it! Good heavens! what could I say, what could I do, but flush up all suddenly with pleasure, and stare at it without power at first to utter a single word?
For it was like _her_--so like that it might have been her very portrait. The features were cast in the same mould--the brow, perhaps, was a little less lofty--the smile a little less cold; but the eyes, the beautiful, l.u.s.trous, soul-lighted eyes were the same--the very same!
If she were to wear an old-fashioned dress, and deck her fair neck and arms with pearls, and put powder on her hair, and stand just so, with her hand upon one of the old stone urns in the garden of that deserted chateau, she would seem to be standing for the portrait.
Well might I feel, when I first saw her, that the beauty of her face was not wholly unfamiliar to me! Well might I fancy I had seen her in some dream of long ago!
So this was the secret of it--and this picture was mine. Mine to hang before my desk when I was at work--mine to place at my bed"s foot, where I might see it on first waking--mine to worship and adore, to weave fancies and build hopes upon, and "burn out the day in idle phantasies"
of pa.s.sionate devotion!
"Well," said Muller impatiently, "what do you think of it?"
I looked up, like one dreaming.
"Think of it!" I repeated.
"Yes--do you think it like?"
"So like that it might be her por ... I mean that it might be the original."
"Oh, that"s satisfactory. I was afraid you were disappointed."
"I was only silent from surprise and pleasure."
"Well, however faithful the copy maybe, you know, in these things one always misses the tone of age."
"I would not have it look a day older!" I exclaimed, never lifting my eyes from the canvas.
Muller came and looked down at it over my shoulder.
"It is an interesting head," said he. "I have a great mind to introduce it into my next year"s compet.i.tion picture."
I started as if he had struck me. The thought was sacrilege!
"For Heaven"s sake do no such thing!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
"Why not?" said he, opening his eyes in astonishment.
"I cannot tell you why--at least not yet; but to--to confer a very particular obligation upon me, will you waive this point?" Muller rubbed his head all over with both hands, and sat down in the utmost perplexity.
"Upon my soul and conscience," said he, "you are the most incomprehensible fellow I ever knew in my life!"
"I am. I grant it. What then? Let us see, I am to give you a hundred and fifty francs for this copy ..."
"I won"t take it," said Muller. "I mean you to accept it as a pledge of friendship and good-will."
"Nay, I insist on paying for it. I shall be proud to pay for it; but a hundred and fifty are not enough. Let me give you three hundred, and promise me that you will not put the head into your picture!"
Muller laughed, and shook his own head resolutely. "I will give you both the portrait and the promise," said he; "but I won"t take your money, if I know it."
"But ..."
"But I won"t--and so, if you don"t like me well enough to accept such a trifle from me, I"ll e"en carry the thing home again!"
And, s.n.a.t.c.hing up his cap and cloak, he made a feint of putting the portrait back into the folio.
"Not for the world!" I exclaimed, taking possession of it without further remonstrance. "I would sooner part from all I possess. How can I ever thank you enough?"
"By never thanking me at all! What little time the thing has cost me is overpaid, not only by the sight of your pleasure, but by my own satisfaction in copying it. To copy a good work is to have a lesson from the painter, though he were dead a hundred years before; and the man who painted that portrait, be he who he might, has taught me a trick or two that I never knew before. _Sapristi_! see if I don"t dazzle you some day with an effect of white satin and pearls against a fair skin!"
"An ingenious argument; but it leaves me unconvinced, all the same. How!
you are not going to run away already? Here"s another bottle of Chambertin waiting to be opened; and it is yet quite early."
"Impossible! I have promised to meet a couple of men up at the Prado, and have, besides, invited them afterwards to supper."
"What is the Prado?"
"The Prado! Why, is it possible that I have never yet introduced you to the Prado? It"s one of the joiliest places in all the Quartier Latin--it"s close to the Palais de Justice. You can dance there, or practise pistol-shooting, or play billiards, or sup--or anything you please. Everybody smokes--ladies not excepted."
"How very delightful!"
"Oh, magnificent! Won"t you come with me? I know a dozen pretty girls who will be delighted to be introduced to you."
"Not to-night, thank you," said I, laughing.
"Well, another time?"
"Yes, to be sure--another time."
"Well, good-night."
"Good-night, and thank you again, a thousand times over."
But he would not stay to hear me thank him, and was half way down the first flight before my sentence was finished. Just as I was going back into my room, and about to close the door, he called after me from the landing.
"_Hola, amigo_! When my picture is done, I mean to give a bachelor"s supper-party--chiefly students and _chicards_. Will you come?"