gerolles' for information, but a
feeling of shame restrained him. Besides, as the committee proceeded
in alphabetical order, nothing perhaps was yet decided. However, one
evening, on the Boulevard de Clichy, he felt his heart thump as he saw
two broad shoulders, with whose lolloping motion he was well acquainted,
coming towards him.

They were the shoulders of Bongrand, who seemed embarrassed. He was the
first to speak, and said:

'You know matters aren't progressing very well over yonder with those
brutes. But everything isn't lost. Fagerolles and I are on the watch.
Still, you must rely on Fagerolles; as for me, my dear fellow, I am
awfully afraid of compromising your chances.'

To tell the truth, there was constant hostility between Bongrand and the
President of the hanging committee, Mazel, a famous master of the School
of Arts, and the last rampart of the elegant, buttery, conventional
style of art. Although they called each other 'dear colleague' and made
a great show of shaking hands, their hostility had burst forth the very
first day; one of them could never ask for the admission of a picture
without the other one voting for its rejection. Fagerolles, who had been
elected secretary, had, on the contrary, made himself Mazel's amuser,
his vice, and Mazel forgave his old pupil's defection, so skilfully
did the renegade flatter him. Moreover, the young master, a regular
turncoat, as his comrades said, showed even more severity than the
members of the Institute towards audacious beginners. He only became
lenient and sociable when he wanted to get a picture accepted, on those
occasions showing himself extremely fertile in devices, intriguing and
carrying the vote with all the supple deftness of a conjurer.

The committee work was really a hard task, and even Bongrand's strong
legs grew tired of it. It was cut out every day by the assistants.
An endless row of large pictures rested on the ground against the
handrails, all along the first-floor galleries, right round the Palace;
and every afternoon, at one o'clock precisely, the forty committee-men,
headed by their president, who was equipped with a bell, started off
on a promenade, until all the letters in the alphabet, serving as
exhibitors' initials, had been exhausted. They gave their decisions
standing, and the work was got through as fast as possible, the worst
canvases being rejected without going to the vote. At times, however,
discussions delayed the party,