h an
attractive commission. You must admit that the beautiful Mrs. Taine is a
subject worthy the brush of any artist; and I suppose it _is_ conceivable
that I _might_ be ambitious to make a genuinely good job of it."

The older man, as though touched by the evident sincerity of the artist's
words, dropped his sneering tone and spoke earnestly; "The beautiful Mrs.
Taine _is_ a subject worthy a master's brush, my friend. But take my word
for it, if you paint her portrait _as a master would paint it_, you will
sign your own death warrant--so far as your popularity and fame as an
artist goes."

"I don't believe it," declared Aaron King, flatly.

"I know you don't. If you _did_, and still accepted the commission, you
wouldn't be fit to associate with honest dogs like Czar, here."

"But why"--persisted the artist--"why do you insist that my portrait of
Mrs. Taine will be disastrous to my success, just to the degree that it is
a work of genuine merit?"

To which the novelist answered, cryptically, "If you have not the eyes to
see the reason, it will matter little whether you know it or not. If you
_do_ see the reason, and, still, produce a portrait that pleases your
sitter, then you will have paid the price; you will receive your reward;
and"--the speaker's tone grew sad and bitter--"you will be what I am."

With this, he arose abruptly and, without another word, stalked into the
hotel; the dog following with quiet dignity, at his heels.

From the beginning of their acquaintance, almost, the novelist and the
artist had dropped into the habit of taking their meals together. At
breakfast, the next morning, Conrad Lagrange reopened the conversation he
had so abruptly closed the night before. "I suppose," he said, "that you
will set up a studio, and do the thing in proper style?"

"Mrs. Taine told me of a place that is for rent, and that she thinks would
be just the thing," returned the young man. "It is across the road from
that big grove owned by Mr. Taine. I was wondering if you would care to
walk out that way with me this morning and help me look it over."

The older man's hearty acceptance of the invitation assured the artist of
his genuine interest, and, an hour later--after Aaron King had interviewed
the agent and secured the keys, with the privilege of inspecting the
premises--the two set out together.

They found the place on the eastern edge of the town; half-hidden by the
orange groves that surrounded it on ev