for all that she thought there was nothing unworthy in his
painting military portraits by the dozen, provided he could get,
respectable prices for them; and in support of this she referred him to
some famous examples. But, in order that she might get him to work
again upon some larger task, she persuaded the young widow to give him
an order for the bombardment of Kissingen, at which her husband had
fallen.

But in this case she had reckoned without her host. He absolutely
refused to paint so prosaic an affair as the bombardment of a modern
city, by modern troops who lay under cover and fired their cannon
unseen. Besides, he had not been present at the affair. Had he taken
part in person at the battle of Luetzen? asked Angelica, maliciously.
No; but that was not a parallel case at all. Everybody would like to
have been present at such a glorious hand-to-hand fight as that, and
would, therefore, feel grateful to the artist who did his best to fix
on canvas the rearing chargers, the trumpeters blowing their bugles,
and the foot soldiers charging and dealing blows to right and left with
all their might. Modern battles, on the other hand, showed to quite as
much advantage on the maps of the general staff, where one could follow
on the table the scientifically-planned moves and countermoves by
geometrical lines and different-colored little flags.

He could not be dissuaded from this, for on some subjects even
Angelica's influence over him had its limits. But the more she scolded
him for his obstinacy, and the more unsparing she was of her forcible
expressions, the better pleased she was at heart that he showed himself
so independent, so manly, and so unreasonable; and she often had hard
work to keep from falling out of her _role_ and throwing her arms
around his neck.

She was less satisfied with the persistency with which he clung to his
quiet melancholy, even after the beautiful weather had come, and there
was no longer any lack of money, and his loose dress-coat had long
since been exchanged for a natty summer jacket. She attributed this
dejection of one who was generally so light-hearted to his affair with
the beautiful Nanny, of which, contrary to his habit, he never spoke to
her, but which, as she knew, had not turned out very satisfactorily.
And so for many a day she sat dejectedly before her easel, listening to
catch the slightest sound from her friend's silent studio, where, even
now, the flute gave forth no musi