ever, when paying a visit to Madame Guillaume, the notary's wife
spoke of the exhibition before Augustine, of whom she was very fond,
and explained its purpose. Madame Roguin's gossip naturally inspired
Augustine with a wish to see the pictures, and with courage enough to
ask her cousin secretly to take her to the Louvre. Her cousin succeeded
in the negotiations she opened with Madame Guillaume for permission to
release the young girl for two hours from her dull labors. Augustine was
thus able to make her way through the crowd to see the crowned work. A
fit of trembling shook her like an aspen leaf as she recognized herself.
She was terrified, and looked about her to find Madame Roguin, from
whom she had been separated by a tide of people. At that moment her
frightened eyes fell on the impassioned face of the young painter. She
at once recalled the figure of a loiterer whom, being curious, she had
frequently observed, believing him to be a new neighbor.

"You see how love has inspired me," said the artist in the timid
creature's ear, and she stood in dismay at the words.

She found supernatural courage to enable her to push through the crowd
and join her cousin, who was still struggling with the mass of people
that hindered her from getting to the picture.

"You will be stifled!" cried Augustine. "Let us go."

But there are moments, at the Salon, when two women are not always free
to direct their steps through the galleries. By the irregular course to
which they were compelled by the press, Mademoiselle Guillaume and her
cousin were pushed to within a few steps of the second picture. Chance
thus brought them, both together, to where they could easily see the
canvas made famous by fashion, for once in agreement with talent. Madame
Roguin's exclamation of surprise was lost in the hubbub and buzz of the
crowd; Augustine involuntarily shed tears at the sight of this wonderful
study. Then, by an almost unaccountable impulse, she laid her finger on
her lips, as she perceived quite near her the ecstatic face of the young
painter. The stranger replied by a nod, and pointed to Madame Roguin, as
a spoil-sport, to show Augustine that he had understood. This pantomime
struck the young girl like hot coals on her flesh; she felt quite
guilty as she perceived that there was a compact between herself and the
artist. The suffocating heat, the dazzling sight of beautiful dresses,
the bewilderment produced in Augustine's brain by the tr