briel had found
him out, and entreated refuge from his fear of his father, the painter
clasped him tight in his great slovenly arms, sold a Venus half-price to
buy him a bed and a washstand, and swore a tremendous oath that the son
of his poor guillotined sister should share the last shilling in his
pocket, the last drop in his can.

Gabriel, fresh from the cheer of Laughton, and spoiled by the prodigal
gifts of Lucretia, had little gratitude for shillings and porter.
Nevertheless, he condescended to take what he could get, while he
sighed, from the depths of a heart in which cupidity and vanity had
become the predominant rulers, for a destiny more worthy his genius, and
more in keeping with the sphere from which he had descended.

The boy finished his sketch, with an impudent wink at the model, flung
himself back on his chair, folded his arms, cast a discontented glance
at the whitened seams of the sleeves, and soon seemed lost in his own
reflections. The painter worked on in silence. The model, whom Gabriel's
wink had aroused, half-flattered, half-indignant for a moment, lapsed
into a doze. Outside the window, you heard the song of a canary,--a
dingy, smoke-coloured canary that seemed shedding its plumes, for they
were as ragged as the garments of its master; still, it contrived to
sing, trill-trill-trill-trill-trill, as blithely as if free in its
native woods, or pampered by fair hands in a gilded cage. The bird was
the only true artist there, it sang as the poet sings,--to obey its
nature and vent its heart. Trill-trill-trillela-la-la-trill-trill, went
the song,--louder, gayer than usual; for there was a gleam of April
sunshine struggling over the rooftops. The song at length roused up
Gabriel; he turned his chair round, laid his head on one side, listened,
and looked curiously at the bird.

At length an idea seemed to cross him; he rose, opened the window, drew
in the cage, placed it on the chair, then took up one of his uncle's
pipes, walked to the fireplace, and thrust the shank of the pipe into
the bars. When it was red-hot he took it out by the bowl, having first
protected his hand from the heat by wrapping round it his handkerchief;
this done, he returned to the cage. His movements had wakened up the
dozing model. She eyed them at first with dull curiosity, then with
lively suspicion; and presently starting up with an exclamation such as
no novelist but Fielding dare put into the mouth of a female,--much les