ood fortune of men who
are methodical--if Grassou, belated with his work, had been caught by
the revolution of July he would not have got his money.

By the time he was thirty-seven Fougeres had manufactured for Elie Magus
some two hundred pictures, all of them utterly unknown, by the help of
which he had attained to that satisfying manner, that point of execution
before which the true artist shrugs his shoulders and the bourgeoisie
worships. Fougeres was dear to friends for rectitude of ideas, for
steadiness of sentiment, absolute kindliness, and great loyalty; though
they had no esteem for his palette, they loved the man who held it.

"What a misfortune it is that Fougeres has the vice of painting!" said
his comrades.

But for all this, Grassou gave excellent counsel, like those
feuilletonists incapable of writing a book who know very well where a
book is wanting. There was this difference, however, between literary
critics and Fougeres; he was eminently sensitive to beauties; he felt
them, he acknowledged them, and his advice was instinct with a spirit
of justice that made the justness of his remarks acceptable. After
the revolution of July, Fougeres sent about ten pictures a year to the
Salon, of which the jury admitted four or five. He lived with the most
rigid economy, his household being managed solely by an old charwoman.
For all amusement he visited his friends, he went to see works of art,
he allowed himself a few little trips about France, and he planned to go
to Switzerland in search of inspiration. This detestable artist was an
excellent citizen; he mounted guard duly, went to reviews, and paid his
rent and provision-bills with bourgeois punctuality.

Having lived all his life in toil and poverty, he had never had the time
to love. Poor and a bachelor, until now he did not desire to complicate
his simple life. Incapable of devising any means of increasing his
little fortune, he carried, every three months, to his notary, Cardot,
his quarterly earnings and economies. When the notary had received
about three thousand francs he invested them in some first mortgage, the
interest of which he drew himself and added to the quarterly payments
made to him by Fougeres. The painter was awaiting the fortunate moment
when his property thus laid by would give him the imposing income of two
thousand francs, to allow himself the otium cum dignitate of the
artist and paint pictures; but oh! what pictures! true pictures!