ntrance.

"Hasn't the Countess arrived yet?" she inquired of Bertin.

"I have not seen her."

"And Monsieur de Musadieu?"

"I have not seen him either."

"He promised me to be here at ten o'clock, at the top of the stairs, to
show me around the principal galleries."

"Will you permit me to take his place, Duchess?"

"No, no. Your friends need you. We shall see each other again very soon,
for I shall expect you to lunch with us."

Musadieu hastened toward them. He had been detained for some minutes in
the hall of sculpture, and excused himself, breathless already.

"This way, Duchess, this way," said he. "Let us begin at the right."

They were just disappearing among the throng when the Comtesse de
Guilleroy, leaning on her daughter's arm, entered and looked around in
search of Olivier Bertin.

He saw them and hastened to meet them. As he greeted the two ladies, he
said:

"How charming you look to-day. Really, Nanette has improved very much.
She has actually changed in a week."

He regarded her with the eye of a close observer, adding: "The lines of
her face are softer, yet more expressive; her complexion is clearer.
She is already something less of a little girl and somewhat more of a
Parisian."

Suddenly he bethought himself of the grand affair of the day.

"Let us begin at the right," said he, "and we shall soon overtake the
Duchess."

The Countess, well informed on all matters connected with painting, and
as preoccupied as if she were herself on exhibition, inquired: "What do
they say of the exposition?"

"A fine one," Bertin replied. "There is a remarkable Bonnat, two
excellent things by Carolus Duran, an admirable Puvis de Chavannes, a
very new and astonishing Roll, an exquisite Gervex, and many others, by
Beraud, Cazin, Duez--in short, a heap of good things."

"And you?" said the Countess.

"Oh, they compliment me, but I am not satisfied."

"You never are satisfied."

"Yes, sometimes. But to-day I really feel that I am right."

"Why?"

"I do not know."

"Let us go to see it."

When they arrived before Bertin's picture--two little peasant-girls
taking a bath in a brook--they found a group admiring it. The Countess
was delighted, and whispered: "It is simply a delicious bit--a jewel!
You never have done anything better."

Bertin pressed close to her, loving her and thanking her for every word
that calmed his suffering and healed his aching heart. Through his mind
ran arguments to