scale. He had gone
to have another look at the Titians, realised how the great artist had
filled in his portraits with such finish, and saw wherein his own
shortcomings lay; and then he began to go over the outlines again in the
most simple fashion. After that, he sought, by scraping them off, to
lose there, to mingle there, all the tones of the head and those of the
background; and the face had assumed consistency and the shades
vigour--the whole work had a look of greater firmness. At length the
Marechale came back again. She even indulged in some hostile criticisms.
The painter naturally persevered in his own course. After getting into a
violent passion at her silliness, he said to himself that, after all,
perhaps she was right. Then began the era of doubts, twinges of
reflection which brought about cramps in the stomach, insomnia,
feverishness and disgust with himself. He had the courage to make some
retouchings, but without much heart, and with a feeling that his work
was bad.

He complained merely of having been refused a place in the Salon; then
he reproached Frederick for not having come to see the Marechale's
portrait.

"What do I care about the Marechale?"

Such an expression of unconcern emboldened the artist.

"Would you believe that this brute has no interest in the thing any
longer?"

What he did not mention was that he had asked her for a thousand crowns.
Now the Marechale did not give herself much bother about ascertaining
who was going to pay, and, preferring to screw money out of Arnoux for
things of a more urgent character, had not even spoken to him on the
subject.

"Well, and Arnoux?"

She had thrown it over on him. The ex-picture-dealer wished to have
nothing to do with the portrait.

"He maintains that it belongs to Rosanette."

"In fact, it is hers."

"How is that? 'Tis she that sent me to you," was Pellerin's answer.

If he had been thinking of the excellence of his work, he would not have
dreamed perhaps of making capital out of it. But a sum--and a big
sum--would be an effective reply to the critics, and would strengthen
his own position. Finally, to get rid of his importunities, Frederick
courteously enquired his terms.

The extravagant figure named by Pellerin quite took away his breath, and
he replied:

"Oh! no--no!"

"You, however, are her lover--'tis you gave me the order!"

"Excuse me, I was only an intermediate agent."

"But I can't remain with this on my hands!"