judge anything like that at a gallop, when one can't even obtain
silence?'

He rang his bell furiously, and added:

'Come, gentlemen, everything is ready--a little good will, if you
please.'

Unluckily, a fresh misfortune occurred as soon as the first paintings
were set on the trestle. One canvas among others attracted Mazel's
attention, so bad did he consider it, so sharp in tone as to make one's
very teeth grate. As his sight was failing him, he leant forward to look
at the signature, muttering the while: 'Who's the pig--'

But he quickly drew himself up, quite shocked at having read the name
of one of his friends, an artist who, like himself, was a rampart of
healthy principles. Hoping that he had not been overheard, he thereupon
called out:

'Superb! No. 1, eh, gentlemen?'

No. 1 was granted--the formula of admission which entitled the picture
to be hung on the line. Only, some of the committee-men laughed and
nudged each other, at which Mazel felt very hurt, and became very
fierce.

Moreover, they all made such blunders at times. A great many of them
eased their feelings at the first glance, and then recalled their words
as soon as they had deciphered the signature. This ended by making them
cautious, and so with furtive glances they made sure of the artist's
name before expressing any opinion. Besides, whenever a colleague's
work, some fellow committee-man's suspicious-looking canvas, was brought
forward, they took the precaution to warn each other by making signs
behind the painter's back, as if to say, 'Take care, no mistake, mind;
it's his picture.'

Fagerolles, despite his colleagues' fidgety nerves, carried the day on
a first occasion. It was a question of admitting a frightful portrait
painted by one of his pupils, whose family, a very wealthy one, received
him on a footing of intimacy. To achieve this he had taken Mazel on
one side in order to try to move him with a sentimental story about
an unfortunate father with three daughters, who were starving. But the
president let himself be entreated for a long while, saying that a man
shouldn't waste his time painting when he was dying for lack of food,
and that he ought to have a little more consideration for his three
daughters! However, in the result, Mazel raised his hand, alone, with
Fagerolles. Some of the others then angrily protested, and even
two members of the Institute seemed disgusted, whereupon Fagerolles
whispered to them in a low key: