lessons in pastel. Now she went to the Louvre to
work, and tried to copy the Chardins and Latours. She went there alone.
It was a little imprudent, she was so pretty; but Louise had no time to
go with her, and her mother had to be at home to attend to the housework
and cooking. Maria's appearance had already excited the hearts of several
young daubers. There were several cases of persistent sadness and loss of
appetite in Flandrin's studio; and two of Signol's pupils, who were
surprised hovering about the young artist, were hated secretly as rivals;
certain projects of duels, after the American fashion, were profoundly
considered. To say that Maria was not a little flattered to see all these
admirers turn timidly and respectfully toward her; to pretend that she
took off her hat and hung it on one corner of her easel because the heat
from the furnace gave her neuralgia and not to show her beautiful hair,
would be as much of a lie as a politician's promise. However, the little
darling was very serious, or at least tried to be. She worked
conscientiously and made some progress. Her last copy of the portrait of
that Marquise who holds a pug dog in her lap, with a ribbon about his
neck, was not very bad. This copy procured a piece of good luck for the
young artist.

Pere Issacar, a bric-a-brac merchant on the Quay Voltairean--an
old-fashioned Jew with a filthy overcoat, the very sight of which made
one long to tear it off--approached Maria one day, just as she was about
to sketch a rose in the Marquise's powdered wig, and after raising a hat
greasy enough to make the soup for a whole regiment, said to her:

"Matemoiselle, vould you make me von dozen vamily bordraits?"

The young girl did not at first understand his abominable language, but
at last he made her comprehend.

Every thing is bought nowadays, even rank, provided, of course, that one
has a purse sufficiently well filled. Nothing is simpler! In return for a
little money you can procure at the Vatican--second corridor on your
right, third door at the left--a brand-new title of Roman Count. A
heraldic agency--see advertisement--will plant and make grow at your will
a genealogical tree, under whose shade you can give a country breakfast
to twenty-five people. You buy a castle with port-holes--port-holes are
necessary--in a corner of some reactionary province. You call upon the
lords of the surrounding castles with a gold fleur-de-lys in your cravat.
You pose as an e