"I have made a sale, my boy. A pope; a large one, two meter size."

And with a sudden burst of confidence in his talent, he talked of the
future. Other men desired medals, triumphs in the exhibitions; he was
more modest. He would be satisfied if he could guess who would be Pope
when the present Pope died, in order to be able to paint up pictures of
him by the dozen ahead of time. What a triumph to put the goods on the
market the day after the Conclave! A perfect fortune! And well
acquainted with all the cardinals, he passed the Sacred College in
mental review with the persistency of a gambler in a lottery, hesitating
between the half dozen who aspired to the tiara. He lived like a
parasite among the high functionaries of the Church, but he was
indifferent to religion, as if this association with them had taken away
all his belief. The old man clad in white and the other red gentlemen
inspired respect in him because they were rich and served indirectly his
wretched portrait business. His admiration was wholly devoted to
Renovales. In the studio of other artists he received their irritating
jests with his usual calm smile of affability, but they could not speak
ill of Renovales nor discuss his ability. To his mind, Renovales could
produce nothing but masterpieces and in his blind admiration he even
went so far as to rave naively over the easel pictures he painted for
his impresario.

Sometimes Josephina unexpectedly appeared in her husband's studio and
chatted with him while he painted, praising the canvases that had a
pretty subject. She preferred to find him alone in these visits,
painting from his fancy without any other model than some clothes placed
on a manikin. She felt a sort of aversion to models, and Renovales tried
in vain to convince her of the necessity of using them. He had talent to
paint beautiful things without resorting to the assistance of those
ordinary old men and above all, of those women with their disheveled
hair, their flashing eyes and their wolfish teeth, who, in the solitude
and silence of the studio, actually terrified her. Renovales laughed.
What nonsense! Jealous little girl! As if he were capable of thinking of
anything but art with a palette in his hand!

One afternoon, when Josephina suddenly came into the studio she saw on
the model's platform a naked woman, lying in some furs, showing the
curves of her yellow back. The wife compressed her lips and pretended
not to see her, listene