ainter had come and with him
his satellites, chiefly young American women, who "painted all over the
place," as Bragdon put it. The long _table d'hote_ under the plane trees
was a cheerful if somewhat noisy occasion these summer nights, with the
black, star-strewn canopy above. They all drank the bottled cider and
talked pictures and joked and sang when so moved. Even if the spirit was
somewhat cheaply effervescent, like the cider, there was plenty of talk,
clashing of eager ideas, and Milly liked it even more than Bragdon. He
seemed older than the other artists, perhaps because he was married and
less given to idle chatter. The great man singled him out for
companionship after the first week, and gave patronizing praise to his
work.

"You are still young," he said, with a sigh for his own sixty years.
"Wait another ten years and you may find something to say."

Jack, repeating these words to his wife, added,--"And where do you
suppose we'd be if I should wait another ten years? On the street."

Tell an American to wait ten years in order to have something to say!

"He's jealous," Milly pronounced. "You're going to do something stunning
this summer, I just know it."

"How do you know it?" he asked teasingly.

"Because we can't wait ten years!"

"Um," the artist sighed, "I should think not."

VIII

THE PICTURE

Just how it came about Milly never remembered, but in the weeks that
followed it was arranged that Jack should do the Russian lady's
portrait. Milly flattered herself at the time that she had produced this
result. Madame Saratoff came rarely to the hotel after she was installed
in her old _manoir_, but she often drove to the beach for her bath and
took Milly home with her for luncheon. And Jack would join them late in
the long afternoon for tea. On one of these occasions the affair was
settled.

Bragdon decided to do the figure out of doors in a corner of the ruined
garden wall with a clustering festoon of purple creeper above and a
narrow slit of sea in the distant background. Against the gray and green
and purple of the wall he placed Madame Saratoff, who was tall, with a
supple, bony figure. It was for him a daring and difficult composition.
The first afternoon, while the figure was being lined in with charcoal,
Milly was much excited. She tried to keep quite still, but Madame
Saratoff persisted in making little jokes and impertinent comments upon
the artist. She did not seem to feel the i