. When one takes it out it is still silk,
but the color has faded, the folds tear when it is touched, and when it
is shaken out fly the moths! But I have let enough of them fly out of
my head to-day. There is no use in going over old experiences. Come! we
will paint a little more, and then go and take a drive--for what is our
glorious liberty for?"

CHAPTER II.

In Jansen's studio, too, there was more talking than working going on
this morning.

Edward Rossel had, at last, in spite of the heat, summoned up
sufficient energy to undertake the short walk thither. A gigantic
Panama hat, over which he also held a sunshade, protected his head;
besides this he wore a summer suit of snow-white pique, and light shoes
of yellow leather.

He was in a very good humor, praised Felix for the assiduity with which
he continued to study his skeleton, and then stepped up to the Dancing
Girl, to which Jansen had just put the finishing touches.

He stood silently before it for some time, then he drew up a chair near
it and begged Jansen to turn the stand so that he would be able to view
the work from all sides.

His friends declared that it was a pleasure to see him look at
anything. His glances seemed to fairly fasten upon the form, or rather
to take it all in; all the muscles of his face became animated, and an
intellectual tension curved his somewhat languid mouth.

"Well," asked Jansen, at last, "how does it strike you? You know I can
bear anything."

"_Est, est, est!_ What is there to be said about it, especially?
Naturally, it has gained and lost, as is always the case. The innocent
audacity, the Pompeian _abandon_, that charmed me in the little sketch
has, as a whole, suffered in the execution. You might do better,
perhaps, to disguise your respect for Nature a little more. And,
by-the-way--with all respect for this Nature--what sort of a model did
you have? Of course it is very strongly idealized?"

"Not in the least. A pure _facsimile_."

"What? This neck and breast, these shoulders, arms--"

"A conscientious copy, without any additions."

Fat Rossel stood up.

"I should have to see that to believe it," he said. "Look here,
compared with this the conventionalities of Canova are mere wretched
sugar-work. And that is what I was just going to say to you--the
Grecian element that was in the sketch is gone. In its place there are
a grace, an _esprit_, an elegance of form--and that,