his--would arrive; a
handsome chap, still young, whom he had met in Rome when he was attached
to the Vatican. A word on Cotoner's part was all that was necessary to
persuade him to do them the honor of marrying the children. Friends are
useful at times! And the painter of the popes, proud of his sudden rise
to importance, went from room to room, arranging everything, followed by
the master who approved of his orders.

In the studio, the orchestra and the table for the luncheon were set.
The other rooms were for the guests. Was anything forgotten? The two
artists looked at the altar with its dark tapestries, and its
candelabra, crosses and reliquaries, of dull, old gold that seemed to
absorb the light rather than reflect it. Nothing was lacking. Ancient
fabrics and garlands of flowers covered the walls, hiding the master's
studies in color, unfinished pictures, profane works that could not be
tolerated in the discreet, harmonious atmosphere of that chapel-like
room. The floor was partly covered with costly rugs, Persian and
Moorish. In front of the altar were two praying desks and behind them,
for the more important guests, all the luxurious chairs of the studio:
white armchairs of the 18th Century, embroidered with pastoral scenes,
Greek settles, benches of carved oak and Venetian chairs with high
backs, the bizarre confusion of an antique shop.

Suddenly Cotoner started back as if he were shocked. How careless! A
fine thing it would have been if he had not noticed it! At the end of
the studio, opposite the altar that screened a large part of the window,
and directly in its light, stood a huge, white, naked woman. It was the
"Venus de Medici," a superb piece of marble that Renovales had brought
from Italy. Its pagan beauty in its dazzling whiteness seemed to
challenge the deathly yellow of the religious objects that filled the
other end of the studio. Accustomed to see it, the two artists had
passed in front of it several times without noticing its nakedness that
seemed more insolent and triumphant now that the studio was converted
into an oratory.

Cotoner began to laugh.

"What a scandal if we hadn't seen it! What would the ladies have said!
My friend Orlandi would have thought that you did it on purpose, for he
considers you rather lax morally. Come, my boy, let's get something to
cover up this lady."

After much searching in the disorder of the studio, they found a piece
of Indian cotton, scrawled with elephan