scoings pose for his
magnificent painting of a young courtesan taken by an old woman to
a Doge of Venice. This picture, one of the masterpieces of modern
painting, was mistaken by Gros himself for a Titian, and it paved the
way for the recognition which the younger artists gave to Joseph's
talent in the Salon of 1823.

"Those who know you know very well what you are," he answered gayly.
"Why need you trouble yourself about those who don't know you?"

For the last ten years Madame Descoings had taken on the ripe tints of a
russet apple at Easter. Wrinkles had formed in her superabundant flesh,
now grown pallid and flabby. Her eyes, full of life, were bright with
thoughts that were still young and vivacious, and might be considered
grasping; for there is always something of that spirit in a gambler.
Her fat face bore traces of dissimulation and of the mental reservations
hidden in the depths of her heart. Her vice necessitated secrecy. There
were also indications of gluttony in the motion of her lips. And thus,
although she was, as we have seen, an excellent and upright woman, the
eye might be misled by her appearance. She was an admirable model
for the old woman Joseph wished to paint. Coralie, a young actress of
exquisite beauty who died in the flower of her youth, the mistress of
Lucien de Rubempre, one of Joseph's friends, had given him the idea of
the picture. This noble painting has been called a plagiarism of
other pictures, while in fact it was a splendid arrangement of three
portraits. Michel Chrestien, one of his companions at the Cenacle, lent
his republican head for the senator, to which Joseph added a few mature
tints, just as he exaggerated the expression of Madame Descoings's
features. This fine picture, which was destined to make a great noise
and bring the artist much hatred, jealousy, and admiration, was just
sketched out; but, compelled as he was to work for a living, he laid
it aside to make copies of the old masters for the dealers; thus he
penetrated the secrets of their processes, and his brush is therefore
one of the best trained of the modern school. The shrewd sense of an
artist led him to conceal the profits he was beginning to lay by
from his mother and Madame Descoings, aware that each had her road to
ruin,--the one in Philippe, the other in the lottery. This astuteness is
seldom wanting among painters; busy for days together in the solitude of
their studios, engaged in work which, up to a ce