he picture that he had pointed out as cold and
lifeless flushed with warmer hues, a few bold strokes of color brought
all the tones of the picture into the required harmony with the glowing
tints of the Egyptian, and the differences in temperament vanished.

"Look you, youngster, the last touches make the picture. Porbus has
given it a hundred strokes for every one of mine. No one thanks us for
what lies beneath. Bear that in mind."

At last the restless spirit stopped, and turning to Porbus and Poussin,
who were speechless with admiration, he spoke--

"This is not as good as my 'Belle Noiseuse'; still one might put one's
name to such a thing as this.--Yes, I would put my name to it,"
he added, rising to reach for a mirror, in which he looked at the
picture.--"And now," he said, "will you both come and breakfast with me?
I have a smoked ham and some very fair wine!... Eh! eh! the times may
be bad, but we can still have some talk about art! We can talk like
equals.... Here is a little fellow who has aptitude," he added, laying a
hand on Nicolas Poussin's shoulder.

In this way the stranger became aware of the threadbare condition of the
Norman's doublet. He drew a leather purse from his girdle, felt in it,
found two gold coins, and held them out.

"I will buy your sketch," he said.

"Take it," said Porbus, as he saw the other start and flush with
embarrassment, for Poussin had the pride of poverty. "Pray, take it; he
has a couple of king's ransoms in his pouch!"

The three came down together from the studio, and, talking of art by the
way, reached a picturesque wooden house hard by the Pont Saint-Michel.
Poussin wondered a moment at its ornament, at the knocker, at the frames
of the casements, at the scroll-work designs, and in the next he stood
in a vast low-ceiled room. A table, covered with tempting dishes, stood
near the blazing fire, and (luck unhoped for) he was in the company of
two great artists full of genial good humor.

"Do not look too long at that canvas, young man," said Porbus, when he
saw that Poussin was standing, struck with wonder, before a painting.
"You would fall a victim to despair."

It was the "Adam" painted by Mabuse to purchase his release from the
prison, where his creditors had so long kept him. And, as a matter of
fact, the figure stood out so boldly and convincingly, that Nicolas
Poussin began to understand the real meaning of the words poured out
by the old artist, who was himsel