laughing.
Talk with his boy revealed to the father his son's strong desire to be
an artist; but before such a serious step could be taken, it was
necessary to consult with some person better able to judge than any
one in the Millet household. Cherbourg, the nearest large town, was
the natural place where to seek advice; thither Millet and his father
repaired, the boy with two drawings under his arm that he had made for
the occasion, and these were submitted to the critical eye of Mouchel,
an old pupil of David, who eked out the scanty living he got by
painting by giving lessons in drawing. When the two drawings made by
young Millet were shown him he refused to believe they were the work
of the lad of fifteen. The very subjects chosen by the boy showed
something out of the common. One was a sort of home idyl: two
shepherds were in a little orchard close, one playing on the flute,
the other listening; some sheep were browsing near. The men wore the
blouse and wooden shoes of Millet's country; the orchard was one that
belonged to his father. The other drawing showed a starry night. A man
was coming from the house with loaves of bread in his hand which he
gave to another man who eagerly received them. Underneath, in Latin,
were the words from St. Luke: "Though he will not rise and give him
because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise
and give him as many as he needeth." A friend of Millet's, who saw
these drawings thirty years after, said they were the work of a man
who already knew the great significance of art, the effects it was
capable of, and what were its resources.

Mouchel consented to receive Millet as a pupil, but, as it proved, he
could do little for him in the way of direct teaching. He left the boy
free to follow his own devices. He said to him: "Do whatever you wish;
choose whatever model you find in my studio that pleases you, and
study in the Museum." This might not be the course to follow with
every boy, but Mouchel had the artist's penetration and knew with whom
he had to deal.

The death of Millet's father interrupted his studies and he returned
home for awhile to help his mother on the farm. But it was thought
best that he should keep on with the work he had begun. The
grandmother urged his return: "My Francois," she said, "we must accept
the will of God. Thy father, my son, Jean-Louis, said that you were to
be a painter; obey him, and go back to Cherbourg."

Millet did not n