r to get the copy into proper proportion,
it seems. He began by sketching the head of the principal woman
roughly in the middle of his canvas, and then he wanted to begin
painting it at once--he was so impatient.

Students, female students especially, came and interested themselves
in his work, and some _rapins_ asked him questions, and tried to
help him and give him tips. But the more they told him, the more
helpless and hopeless he grew. He soon felt conscious he was
becoming quite a funny man again--a centre of interest--in a new
line; but it gave him no pleasure whatever.

After a week of this mistaken drudgery he sat despondent one
afternoon on a bench in the Champs Elysees and watched the gay
people, and thought himself very down on his luck; he was tired and
hot and miserable--it was the beginning of July. If he had known
how, he would almost have shed tears. His loneliness was not to be
borne, and his longing to feel once more the north had become a
chronic ache.

A tall, thin, shabby man came and sat by his side, and made himself
a cigarette, and hummed a tune--a well-known quartier-latin
song--about "Mon Aldegonde, ma blonde," and "Ma Rodogune, ma brune."

Barty just glanced at this jovial person and found he didn't look
jovial at all, but rather sad and seedy and out at elbows--by no
means of the kind that the fair Aldegonde or her dark sister would
have much to say to.

Also that he wore very strong spectacles, and that his brown eyes,
when turned Barty's way, vibrated with a quick, tremulous motion and
sideways, as if they had the "gigs."

Much moved and excited, Barty got up and put out his hand to the
stranger, and said:

"Bonjour, Monsieur Bonzig! comment allez-vous?"

Bonzig opened his eyes at this well-dressed Briton (for Barty had
clothes to last him a French lifetime).

"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur--mais je n'ai pas l'honneur de vous
remettre!"

"Je m'appelle Josselin--de chez Brossard!"

"Ah! Mon Dieu, mon cher, mon tres-cher!" said Bonzig, and got up and
seized Barty's both hands--and all but hugged him.

"Mais quel bonheur de vous revoir! Je pense a vous si souvent, et a
Ouittebe! comme vous etes change--et quel beau garcon vous etes! Qui
vous aurait reconnu! Dieu de Dieu--c'est un reve! Je n'en reviens
pas!" etc., etc....

And they walked off together, and told the other each an epitome of
his history since they parted; and dined together cheaply, and spent
a happy evening walking