ncil
the angel's other hand appeared flinging up a censer attached to
a long chain, which struck the solitary dot like a shot amid
acclamations. To show that he did not consider the feat a _tour de
force_, the artist turned the paper, and taking the same marks drew
a devil in an entirely different attitude, the difficult point being
reached by his pitchfork. This gave rise to a learned discussion as
to whether the devil's emblematic pitchfork was not a descendant of
Neptune's trident, which I did not stay to hear, as Afra whispered she
wanted to present me to Monsieur C----, and I was taken to a gentleman
of no great height, but of such wondrous width that Nature must have
formed him in a most generous mood.

"You are American?" said this wide man to me as I was introduced, and
without waiting for a reply went on: "I like your country-people:
they admire frankly. Show them a picture, they exclaim, 'Beautiful!
magnificent! lovely! exquisite! name your price;' and they buy it.
Here the public look and look. 'Not bad,' they say, 'but the color is
from Veronese, and that attitude is surely Raphael's. What a mine that
man's genius has been to ambitious but less gifted artists!' and so
they go on. I wish they would let the dead rest in peace. Are you
acquainted with Mr. B---- of New York?"

I was obliged to say "No."

"I wish to send a message to him," he continued grandly: "tell him
that I paint now for him alone."

"You are court-painter to Mr. B----," I remarked laughingly.

"Don't speak of courts," he exclaimed pettishly. "I was to have
painted the baptism of the prince imperial for the state: it gave me
no end of annoyance, and in the end was never finished."

"I understood that you insisted on painting the little prince nude,
after the Rubens manner, and that was one ground of objection to the
design," said Afra.

"The baby would have had on plenty of clothes: one of his dresses was
sent from the Tuileries for Monsieur C---- to paint, and I sewed a
rosette on it myself." This from the painter's wife.

"A countryman of yours sat for the head of a young priest at the
ceremony. He had a fine countenance: he was studying art with me
at the time, and has since been professor of drawing at your Naval
Academy. Teaching is a sad trade--Pegasus dragging the plough."

"At least, your other great picture brought you nothing but praise."

"The public have since repented of being so good to me. Then, they
could not say