his eyes and an air of
lassitude and weariness. He thought to himself, "Why, this man may
possibly be done for artistically. Something has gone from him which I
noted the first time I met him: that fire and intense enthusiasm which
radiated force after the fashion of an arclight. Now he seems to be
seeking to draw something in,--to save himself from drowning as it were.
He is making a voiceless appeal for consideration. What a pity!"

The worst of it all was that in his estimation nothing could be done in
such a case. You couldn't do anything for an artist who could do nothing
for himself. His art was gone. The sanest thing for him to do would be
to quit trying, go at some other form of labor and forget all about it.
It might be that he would recover, but it was a question. Nervous
breakdowns were not infrequently permanent.

Eugene noticed something of this in his manner. He couldn't tell exactly
what it was, but M. Charles seemed more than ordinarily preoccupied,
careful and distant. He wasn't exactly chilly in his manner, but
reserved, as though he were afraid he might be asked to do something
which he could not very well do.

"I noticed that the Paris scenes did not do very well either here or in
Paris," observed Eugene with an air of nonchalance, as though it were a
matter of small importance, at the same time hoping that he would have
some favorable word. "I had the idea that they would take better than
they did. Still I don't suppose I ought to expect everything to sell.
The New York ones did all right."

"They did very well indeed, much better than I expected. I didn't think
as many would be sold as were. They were very new and considerably
outside the lines of current interest. The Paris pictures, on the other
hand, were foreign to Americans in the wrong sense. By that I mean they
weren't to be included in that genre art which comes from abroad, but is
not based on any locality and is universal in its appeal--thematically
speaking. Your Paris pictures were, of course, pictures in the best
sense to those who see art as color and composition and idea, but to the
ordinary lay mind they were, I take it, merely Paris scenes. You get
what I mean. In that sense they were foreign, and Paris has been done
illustratively anyhow. You might have done better with London or
Chicago. Still you have every reason to congratulate yourself. Your work
made a distinct impression both here and in France. When you feel able
to re