eleventh hour, were those of the beggars
at the door--those whom one allowed to glide with empty stomachs to the
far end of the table.

'For my "charity,"' repeated Fagerolles, feeling very much embarrassed;
'the fact is, I meant to take another painting for my "charity." Yes,
some flowers by a lady--'

He was interrupted by loud jeers. Was she pretty? In front of the
women's paintings the gentlemen were particularly prone to sneer, never
displaying the least gallantry. And Fagerolles remained perplexed, for
the 'lady' in question was a person whom Irma took an interest in. He
trembled at the idea of the terrible scene which would ensue should he
fail to keep his promise. An expedient occurred to him.

'Well, and you, Bongrand? You might very well take this funny little
dead child for your charity.'

Bongrand, wounded to the heart, indignant at all the bartering, waved
his long arms:

'What! _I_? _I_ insult a real painter in that fashion? Let him be
prouder, dash it, and never send anything to the Salon!'

Then, as the others still went on sneering, Fagerolles, desirous that
victory should remain to him, made up his mind, with a proud air, like
a man who is conscious of his strength and does not fear being
compromised.

'All right, I'll take it for my "charity,"' he said.

The others shouted bravo, and gave him a bantering ovation, with a
series of profound bows and numerous handshakes. All honour to the brave
fellow who had the courage of his opinions! And an attendant carried
away in his arms the poor derided, jolted, soiled canvas; and thus
it was that a picture by the painter of 'In the Open Air' was at last
accepted by the hanging committee of the Salon.

On the very next morning a note from Fagerolles apprised Claude, in
a couple of lines, that he had succeeded in getting 'The Dead Child'
admitted, but that it had not been managed without trouble. Claude,
despite the gladness of the tidings, felt a pang at his heart; the note
was so brief, and was written in such a protecting, pitying style, that
all the humiliating features of the business were apparent to him. For
a moment he felt sorry over this victory, so much so that he would have
liked to take his work back and hide it. Then his delicacy of feeling,
his artistic pride again gave way, so much did protracted waiting for
success make his wretched heart bleed. Ah! to be seen, to make his
way despite everything! He had reached the point when conscien