ng lady, whom he was not to let her know at first that he
had so much as seen. Just at the last, just before her visit, he was to
mention to her that he had met the girl--at the studio--and that she was
as remarkable in her way as the picture. Seeing the picture and
hearing this, Mme. de Brecourt, as a disinterested lover of charming
impressions, and above all as an easy prey at all times to a rabid
curiosity, would express a desire also to enjoy a sight of so rare a
creature; on which Waterlow might pronounce it all arrangeable if she
would but come in some day when Miss Francie should sit. He would give
her two or three dates and Gaston would see that she didn't let the
opportunity pass. She would return alone--this time he wouldn't go with
her--and she would be as taken as could be hoped or needed. Everything
much depended on that, but it couldn't fail. The girl would have to take
her, but the girl could be trusted, especially if she didn't know who
the demonstrative French lady was, with her fine plain face, her hair
so blond as to be nearly white, her vividly red lips and protuberant
light-coloured eyes. Their host was to do no introducing and to reveal
the visitor's identity only after she had gone. That was a condition
indeed this participant grumbled at; he called the whole business an
odious comedy, though his friend knew that if he undertook it he
would acquit himself honourably. After Mme. de Brecourt had been
captivated--the question of how Francie would be affected received
in advance no consideration--her brother would throw off the mask and
convince her that she must now work with him. Another meeting would be
managed for her with the girl--in which each would appear in her proper
character; and in short the plot would thicken.

Gaston's forecast of his difficulties showed how finely he could
analyse; but that was not rare enough in any French connexion to make
his friend stare. He brought Suzanne de Brecourt, she was enchanted with
the portrait of the little American, and the rest of the drama began to
follow in its order. Mme. de Brecourt raved to Waterlow's face--she had
no opinions behind people's backs--about his mastery of his craft; she
could dispose the floral tributes of homage with a hand of practice all
her own. She was the reverse of egotistic and never spoke of herself;
her success in life sprang from a much wiser adoption of pronouns.
Waterlow, who liked her and had long wanted to paint her u