urnalist stopped
and, turning toward his companion, asked:

"What is your idea of Meissonier?"

Patissot hesitated. At last he decided: "A little man, well groomed,
clean shaven, a soldierly appearance." The other smiled: "All right, come
along." A quaint building in the form of a chalet appeared to the left;
and to the right side, almost opposite, was the main house. It was a
strange-looking building, where there was a mixture of everything, a
mingling of Gothic fortress, manor, villa, hut, residence, cathedral,
mosque, pyramid, a, weird combination of Eastern and Western
architecture. The style was complicated enough to set a classical
architect crazy, and yet there was something whimsical and pretty about
it. It had been invented and built under the direction of the artist.

They went in; a collection of trunks encumbered a little parlor. A little
man appeared, dressed in a jumper. The striking thing about him was his
beard. He bowed to the journalist, and said: "My dear sir, I hope that
you will excuse me; I only returned yesterday, and everything is all
upset here. Please be seated." The other refused, excusing himself: "My
dear master, I only dropped in to pay my respects while passing by."
Patissot, very much embarrassed, was bowing at every word of his
friend's, as though moving automatically, and he murmured, stammering:
"What a su--su--superb property!" The artist, flattered,
smiled, and suggested visiting it.

He led them first to a little pavilion of feudal aspect, where his former
studio was. Then they crossed a parlor, a dining-room, a vestibule full
of beautiful works of art, of beautiful Beauvais, Gobelin and Flanders
tapestries. But the strange external luxury of ornamentation became,
inside, a revel of immense stairways. A magnificent grand stairway, a
secret stairway in one tower, a servants' stairway in another, stairways
everywhere! Patissot, by chance, opened a door and stepped back
astonished. It was a veritable temple, this place of which respectable
people only mention the name in English, an original and charming
sanctuary in exquisite taste, fitted up like a pagoda, and the decoration
of which must certainly have caused a great effort.

They next visited the park, which was complex, varied, with winding paths
and full of old trees. But the journalist insisted on leaving; and, with
many thanks, he took leave of the master: As they left they met a
gardener; Patissot asked him: "Has Monsieur