_ in
which the young painters of that day indulged, and which they thought
fit to emphasize in public and among one another by eccentricities of
costume and language, supposed to be in harmony with the periods they
had adopted for illustration. This absence of enthusiasm one way or the
other aroused the ire of his fellow-lodgers at the "Childebert," and one
of them, whose pencil was more deft at that kind of work than those of
the others, executed their vengeance, and drew Bouginier's picture on
the "fag end" of a dead wall in the vicinity of the Church of St.
Germain-des-Pres. The success was instantaneous and positively
overwhelming, though truth compels one to state that this was the only
flash of genius that illumined that young fellow's career. His name was
Fourreau, and one looks in vain for his name in the biographical
dictionaries or encyclopedias of artists. Fate has even been more cruel
to him than to his model.

For the moment, however, the success, as I have already said, was
overwhelming. In less than a fortnight there was not a single wall in
Paris and its outskirts without a Bouginier on its surface. Though Paris
was considerably less in area than it is now, it wanted a Herculean
effort to accomplish this. No man, had he been endowed with as many arms
as Briareus, would have sufficed for it. Nor would it have done to trust
to more or less skilful copyists--they might have failed to catch the
likeness, which was really an admirable one; so the following device was
hit upon. Fourreau himself cut a number of stencil plates in brown
paper, and, provided with them, an army of Childebertians started every
night in various directions, Fourreau and a few undoubtedly clever
youths heading the detachments, and filling in the blanks by hand.

Meanwhile summer had come, and with it the longing among the young
Tintos to breathe the purer air of the country, to sniff the salt
breezes of the ocean. As a matter of course, they were not all ready to
start at the same time, but being determined to follow the same route,
to assemble at a common goal, the contingent that was to leave a
fortnight later than the first arranged to join the others wherever they
might be.

"But how?" was the question of those who were left behind. "Very simply
indeed," was the answer; "we'll go by the Barriere d'Italie. You'll have
but to look at the walls along the road, and you'll find your waybill."

So said, so done. A fortnight after, th