to-day!' In this way she morally turned me out of doors without farther
ceremony, and, I must confess, I rather like it in her; energy,
fearlessness, the courage of one's opinions, are always fine, even in a
woman. So I withdrew, wondering, and was already at work laying on my
colors when I heard some one coming up the stairs. Yes, I was right,
she was going to Angelica; and as the wall between us is not very
thick, and they did not at first take the precaution to lower their
voices, I discovered the whole mystery--that it is our beauty of
yesterday, that she is going to have her picture painted, and that her
first name is Julie. And now I appeal to you, friends and companions in
art, are we men or cowardly poltroons? Are we to suffer this vixen to
carry away such a prize from under our very noses, and to withhold such
a paragon of beauty from us under our own roof? Or shall we rush up as
one man, and, in the name of art, lay siege to the door of this
obdurate sister, and compel her, by force or persuasion, to open to
us?"

"I would advise you, Rosenbusch, to go quietly upstairs again and wreak
your martial ardor on the battle of Luetzen," Jansen answered, without
the slightest approach to a smile. "But, if your excitement will not
let you work, convey your homage to the lady through the wall by means
of your flute. Perhaps they will invite you to come round and declaim
some of your verses."

"Wretched scoffer!" cried the battle-painter. "I thought to render you
a service by bringing you this news. But you are of the earth, earthy,
and are incapable of soaring to any height of enthusiasm. Well, God be
with you! I see that I am not understood down here!"

He rushed out of the door, and, sure enough, they soon afterward heard
the flute pouring out its most melting passages.

This language, however, did not seem to be understood in the next room.
Angelica's room remained tight shut, and when it was opened, a few
hours after, soft steps came down the stairs, and the listeners below
were led to conclude that the sitting was over.

In the mean while dinner-time had come, and the assistants in
the adjoining room had stopped work and left the studio. Jansen,
too--although, as a rule, he seldom made a pause before two
o'clock--now laid down his modeling-tool.

"Come," he said, "you must make your calls of ceremony upon our
fellow-lodgers."

They mounted the stairs, and went first into Rosenbusch's studio. As no
notice h