Louvre in a fortnight, for I cannot miss the Exposition this year. But
stay, my little friend, I will give you the address of several of my
pupils: tell them I sent you, and you will certainly find some one of
them who will do what you wish. Good-morning, Henry!'

'Good-by, my little friend,' added the lady. 'I hope you may be
successful.' The boy took his leave with a bursting heart.

Henry wandered through the gardens of the Luxembourg, debating with
himself if he should apply to the young artists whose addresses he
held in his hand. Fearing that his new efforts might be equally
unsuccessful, he was trying to nerve himself to encounter fresh
refusals, when he was accosted by a boy of his own age, his
fellow-student at the drawing-school. Jules proposed that they should
walk together; then observing Henry's sadness, he asked him the cause.
Henry told him of his mother's desire; their master's refusal to take
the portrait; and of his own dislike to apply to those young artists,
who were strangers to him.

'Come with me,' cried Jules, when his friend had ceased speaking. 'My
sister is also an artist: she has always taken care of me, for our
father and mother died when we were both very young. She is so kind
and so fond of me that I am very sure she will not refuse.'

The two boys traversed the Avenue de l'Observatoire, the merry, joyous
face of the one contrasting with the sadness and anxiety of the other.
When they got to the end of the avenue they entered the Rue de
l'Ouest, and went into a quiet-looking house, up to the fourth storey
of which Jules mounted with rapid steps, dragging poor Henry with him.
He tapped gaily at a little door, which a young servant opened: he
passed through the antechamber, and the two boys found themselves in
the presence of Emily d'Orbe, the sister of Jules.

She appeared to be about twenty-five: she was not tall, and her face
was rather pleasing than handsome; yet her whole appearance indicated
cultivation and amiability. Her dress was simple, but exquisitely
neat; her gown of brown stuff fitted well to her graceful figure; her
linen cuffs and collar were of a snowy whiteness; her hair was parted
in front, and fastened up behind _a l'antique_: but she wore no
ribbon, no ornament--nothing but what was necessary. The furniture of
the room, which served at the same time as a sitting-room and studio,
was equally simple: a little divan, some chairs and two arm-chairs
covered with gray clo