it privately, but devoting himself almost entirely
to the studio he had opened, when he ceased exhibiting. He was an
admirable teacher and his list of pupils was always full. He was an
exacting master and would take none but students who showed marked
ability. As a preliminary picture had to be presented to him for
examination, and at least three out of four of the canvases sufficed to
ensure their authors' prompt rejection.

It was, therefore, considered an honor to be one of Goude's pupils, but
it had its drawbacks. His criticisms were severe and bitter; and he fell
into violent passions when, as Leroux once observed, he looked like the
yellow dwarf in a rage. Cuthbert had heard of him from Terrier, who said
that Goude had the reputation of being by far the best master in Paris.
He had presented himself to him as soon as he arrived there; his
reception had not been favorable.

"It is useless, Monsieur," the master had said, abruptly, "there are two
objections. In the first place you are too old, in the second place you
are a foreigner, and I do not care to teach foreigners. I never had but
one here, and I do not want another. He was a Scotchman, and because I
told him one day when he had produced an atrocious daub, that he was an
imbecile pig, he seized me and shook me till my teeth chattered in my
head, and then kicked over the easel and went out."

"You may call me an imbecile pig if you like," Cuthbert said with his
quiet smile, "it would hurt me in no way. I have come over to learn, and
I am told you are the best master in Paris. When a man is a great master
he must be permitted to have his peculiarities, and if he likes to treat
grown-up men as children, of course he can do so, for are we not
children in art by his side."

Monsieur Goude was mollified, but he did not show it.

"Have you brought any canvases with you?"

"I have brought the last two things I did before leaving London."

"Well, you can bring them if you like," the master said, ungraciously,
"but I warn you it will be useless. You English cannot paint, even the
best of you. You have no soul, you are monotonous, but you may bring
them."

An hour later Cuthbert returned to the studio, which was now occupied by
the students.

"You are prompt," the master said, looking round from the student whose
work he was correcting with no small amount of grumbling and
objurgation. "Put your things on those two spare easels, I will look at
them presently.