ire seized Max
to lift and kiss one of her thin, work-worn hands. The whole pitiful
story of a vogue outlived, of a generation pushed aside, breathed in the
silence of these fifth-floor rooms.

"They must be a great pride to you, madame--these pictures."

"These, monsieur--and the fact that he is still with me. We can dispense
with anything save the being we love--is it not so? But I must not
detain you, talking of myself! The other rooms are still to see! This,
monsieur, is our second bedroom! And this the kitchen!"

Max, following her obediently, took one peep into what was evidently
her own bedroom--a tiny apartment of rigid simplicity, in which a narrow
bed, with a large black crucifix hanging above it, seemed the only
furniture, and passed on into the kitchen, a room scarce larger than a
cupboard, in which a gas-stove and a water-tap promised future utility.

"See, monsieur! Everything is very convenient. All things are close at
hand for cooking, and the light is good. And now, perhaps, you would
wish to pass back into the _salon_ and step out upon the balcony?"

Still silent, still preoccupied, he assented, and they passed into the
room so eloquent of past hours and dwindled fortunes.

"See, monsieur! The view is wonderful! Not to-day, perhaps, for the
frost blurs the distances; but in the spring--a little later in the
year--"

Crossing the room, she opened the long French window and stepped out
upon the narrow iron balcony.

Max followed, and, moving to her side, stood gazing down upon the city
of his dreams. For long he stood absorbed in thought, then he turned and
looked frankly into her face.

"Madame," he said, softly, "it is a place of miracle. It is here that I
shall live."

She smiled. She had served an apprenticeship in the reading of the
artist's heart--the child's heart.

"Yes, monsieur? You will live here?"

"As soon, madame, as it suits you to vacate the _appartement_."

Again she smiled, gently, indulgently. "And may I ask, monsieur, whether
you have ascertained the figure of the rent?"

"No, madame."

"And is not that--pardon me!--a little improvident?"

Max laughed. "Probably, madame! But if it demanded my last franc I
would give that last franc with an open heart, so greatly do I desire
the place."

The quiet eyes of the woman softened to a gentle comprehension.

"You are an artist, monsieur."

The color leaped into the boy's face, his eyes flashed with triumph.

"Madame,