ful blazes died down, the hot scarlet deepened to red again,
the red grew dull, a gray film of ashes showed itself upon it, and
then came the first faint gray of dawn, and she sat with beating heart
saying to herself,

"It will go out soon--suddenly." And the dying man was awake, speaking
to her.

"Come here," he said in a low, clear voice. "Come here."

She went to him and stood close by the bedside. The moment of her
supreme anguish had come. But he showed no signs of pain or dread,
only there was a little moisture upon his forehead and about his
mouth.

His eyes shone large and bright in the snowy pallor of his face, and
when he fixed them upon her she knew he would not move them away.

"I am glad--that it is--finished," he said. "It did not tire me to
work--as I thought it would. I am glad--that it is--finished."

She fell upon her knees.

"That it is finished?" she said.

His smile grew brighter.

"The picture," he whispered--"the picture."

And then what she had waited for came. There was a moment of silence;
the wind outside hushed itself, his lips parted, but no sound came
from them, not even a fluttering breath; his eyes were still fixed
upon her face, open, bright, smiling.

"I may speak now," she cried. "I may speak now--since you cannot hear.
I love you! I love you!"

But there came to her ears only one sound--the little grating shudder
of the fire as it fell together and was dead.

* * * * *

The next morning when they heard that "the American" had at last
fulfilled their prophecies, the _locataires_ showed a spasmodic warmth
of interest. They offered their services promptly, and said to each
other that he must have been a good fellow, after all--that it was a
pity they had not known him better. They even protested that he should
not be made an object of charity--that among themselves they would do
all that was necessary. But it appeared that their help was not
needed--that there was in the background a friend who had done all,
but whom nobody knew.

Hearing this they expressed their sympathy by going up by twos and
threes to the little garret where there was now only icy coldness and
silence.

Not a few among them were so far touched by the pathos they found in
this as to shed a tear or so--most of them were volatile young
Frenchmen who counted their sensibilities among their luxuries.

Toward evening there came two older than the rest, who had not been