of art heaped
together in the picturesque apartment.

Poussin, observing against the dark panelling of the wall a magnificent
portrait of a woman, exclaimed aloud, "What a magnificent Giorgione!"

"No," remarked the old man, "that is only one of my early daubs."

"Zounds!" cried Poussin naively; "are you the king of painters?"

The old man smiled, as if long accustomed to such homage. "Maitre
Frenhofer," said Porbus, "could you order up a little of your good Rhine
wine for me?"

"Two casks," answered the host; "one to pay for the pleasure of
looking at your pretty sinner this morning, and the other as a mark of
friendship."

"Ah! if I were not so feeble," resumed Porbus, "and if you would consent
to let me see your Beautiful Nut-girl, I too could paint some lofty
picture, grand and yet profound, where the forms should have the living
life."

"Show my work!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion. "No, no! I
have still to bring it to perfection. Yesterday, towards evening, I
thought it was finished. Her eyes were liquid, her flesh trembled, her
tresses waved--she breathed! And yet, though I have grasped the secret
of rendering on a flat canvas the relief and roundness of nature, this
morning at dawn I saw many errors. Ah! to attain that glorious result,
I have studied to their depths the masters of color. I have analyzed and
lifted, layer by layer, the colors of Titian, king of light. Like him,
great sovereign of art, I have sketched my figure in light clear tones
of supple yet solid color; for shadow is but an accident,--remember
that, young man. Then I worked backward, as it were; and by means of
half-tints, and glazings whose transparency I kept diminishing little by
little, I was able to cast strong shadows deepening almost to blackness.
The shadows of ordinary painters are not of the same texture as their
tones of light. They are wood, brass, iron, anything you please except
flesh in shadow. We feel that if the figures changed position the shady
places would not be wiped off, and would remain dark spots which never
could be made luminous. I have avoided that blunder, though many of our
most illustrious painters have fallen into it. In my work you will see
whiteness beneath the opacity of the broadest shadow. Unlike the crowd
of ignoramuses, who fancy they draw correctly because they can paint one
good vanishing line, I have not dryly outlined my figures, nor brought
out superstitiously minute anatomical de