, he entered for the first time his brother's
painting-room, where he found the painter in a blue blouse, copying a
picture for a dealer.

"So that's how pictures are made," said Philippe, by way of opening the
conversation.

"No," said Joseph, "that is how they are copied."

"How much do they pay you for that?"

"Eh! never enough; two hundred and fifty francs. But I study the manner
of the masters and learn a great deal; I found out the secrets of their
method. There's one of my own pictures," he added, pointing with the end
of his brush to a sketch with the colors still moist.

"How much do you pocket in a year?"

"Unfortunately, I am known only to painters. Schinner backs me; and
he has got me some work at the Chateau de Presles, where I am going in
October to do some arabesques, panels, and other decorations, for which
the Comte de Serizy, no doubt, will pay well. With such trifles and with
orders from the dealers, I may manage to earn eighteen hundred to two
thousand francs a year over and above the working expenses. I shall send
that picture to the next exhibition; if it hits the public taste, my
fortune is made. My friends think well of it."

"I don't know anything about such things," said Philippe, in a subdued
voice which caused Joseph to turn and look at him.

"What is the matter?" said the artist, seeing that his brother was very
pale.

"I should like to know how long it would take you to paint my portrait?"

"If I worked steadily, and the weather were clear, I could finish it in
three or four days."

"That's too long; I have only one day to give you. My poor mother loves
me so much that I wished to leave her my likeness. We will say no more
about it."

"Why! are you going away again?"

"I am going never to return," replied Philippe with an air of forced
gayety.

"Look here, Philippe, what is the matter? If it is anything serious,
I am a man and not a ninny. I am accustomed to hard struggles, and if
discretion is needed, I have it."

"Are you sure?"

"On my honor."

"You will tell no one, no matter who?"

"No one."

"Well, I am going to blow my brains out."

"You!--are you going to fight a duel?"

"I am going to kill myself."

"Why?"

"I have taken eleven hundred francs from the funds in my hands; I have
got to send in my accounts to-morrow morning. Half my security is lost;
our poor mother will be reduced to six hundred francs a year. That would
be nothing! I could make a for