d
_bourgeoisie_. He would have taken to his bosom the draper papa of
Hedwige of Cassel.

Most of his time he spent in the studio at Menilmontant; there at any
rate he was at ease. We were not too disreputable for the umbrella, and
though he deprecated the loose speech of Bringard and Bonnet who had
returned to Paris, and the queer personal habits of Cazalet, he appeared
to find solace in our society. At any rate the visits gave him
occupation. He also posed for the body of M. Thiers in an historical
picture which Bringard proposed to exhibit at the Salon the following
spring.

"_L'homme propose et Dieu expose_," said Paragot.

"If he is anything of a judge this ought to be hung on the line," said
Bonnet.

I regret to say the picture was rejected.

At last the time came for the Melford visit. Paragot consulted Ewing and
myself earnestly as to his outfit, and though he clung to his frock-coat
suit as a garb of ceremony, we succeeded in sending him away with a
semblance of English country-house attire. He took with him my portrait
of Joanna, packed in a wooden case and bearing, to my great pride, the
legend, "Precious. Work of Art. With great care," in French and English.

When he had gone I moved my belongings from my attic to the Rue des
Saladiers, and gave myself up to the ministrations of Blanquette.

A little while later I received from my dear lady an invitation to visit
Melford and paint the portrait of her mother, who regarded my portrait
of Joanna as a work of genius. If you are a young artist it makes your
head spin very pleasantly to hear yourself alluded to as a genius. Later
in life you do not quite like it, for you have bitter knowledge of your
limitations and are mortally afraid your kind flatterers will find you
out. But at twenty you really do not know whether you are a genius or
not. Mrs. Rushworth, however, backed her opinion with a hundred guineas.
A hundred guineas! When I read the words I uttered a wild shriek which
brought Blanquette in a fright from the bedroom. It was a commission,
Joanna explained, and I was to accept it just like any other artist,
and I was to stay with them, again like any other artist, during the
sittings.

"I am to go to England to paint another portrait, Blanquette. How much
do you think I shall be paid for it?"

"Much?" queried Blanquette, in her deliberate way.

I indicated with swinging arms a balloon of gold. Blanquette reflected.

"Fifty francs?"

"Two th