artist--a very young artist, in fact--and
I wandered about the country parts of France, sketching here and
sketching there, and was presently joined by a couple of darling young
Frenchmen who were at the same kind of thing that I was doing. We were
as happy as we were poor, or as poor as we were happy--phrase it to suit
yourself. Claude Frere and Carl Boulanger--these are the names of those
boys; dear, dear fellows, and the sunniest spirits that ever laughed at
poverty and had a noble good time in all weathers.

'At last we ran hard aground in a Breton village, and an artist as poor
as ourselves took us in and literally saved us from starving--Francois
Millet--'

'What! the great Francois Millet?'

'Great? He wasn't any greater than we were, then. He hadn't any fame,
even in his own village; and he was so poor that he hadn't anything to
feed us on but turnips, and even the turnips failed us sometimes. We
four became fast friends, doting friends, inseparables. We painted away
together with all our might, piling up stock, piling up stock, but very
seldom getting rid of any of it. We had lovely times together; but, O my
soul! how we were pinched now and then!

'For a little over two years this went on. At last, one day, Claude
said:

'"Boys, we've come to the end. Do you understand that?--absolutely to
the end. Everybody has struck--there's a league formed against us. I've
been all around the village and it's just as I tell you. They refuse to
credit us for another centime until all the odds and ends are paid up."

'This struck us as cold. Every face was blank with dismay. We realised
that our circumstances were desperate, now. There was a long silence.
Finally, Millet said with a sigh:

'"Nothing occurs to me--nothing. Suggest something, lads."

'There was no response, unless a mournful silence may be called a
response. Carl got up, and walked nervously up and down a while, then
said:

'"It's a shame! Look at these canvases: stacks and stacks of as good
pictures as anybody in Europe paints--I don't care who he is. Yes,
and plenty of lounging strangers have said the same--or nearly that,
anyway."

'"But didn't buy," Millet said.

'"No matter, they said it; and it's true, too. Look at your 'Angelus'
there! Will anybody tell me--"

'"Pah, Carl--My 'Angelus!' I was offered five francs for it."

'"When?"

'"Who offered it?"

'"Where is he?"

'"Why didn't you take it?"

'"Come--don't all speak at once.