ersation.

"Depends on when, M'sieur Mueller," growled the model.

"Well--next week, for the whole week."

Guichet shook his head. He was engaged to Monsieur Flandrin _la bas_,
for the next month, from twelve to three daily, and had only his
mornings and evenings to dispose of; in proof of which he pulled out a
greasy note-book and showed where the agreement was formally entered.
Mueller made a grimace of disappointment.

"That man's head takes a deal of cutting off, _mon ami_," he said.
"Aren't you tired of playing executioner so long?"

"Not I, M'sieur! It's all the same to me--executioner or victim, saint
or devil."

Mueller, laughing, offered him a cigar.

"You've posed for some queer characters in your time, Guichet," said he.

"Parbleu, M'sieur!"

"But you've not been a model all your life?"

"Perhaps not, M'sieur."

"You've been a sailor once upon a time, haven't you?"

The model looked up quickly.

"How did you know that?" he said, frowning.

"By a number of little things--by this, for instance," replied Mueller,
kicking his heels against the sea-chest; "by certain words you make use
of now and then; by the way you walk; by the way you tie your cravat.
_Que diable_! you look at me as if you took me for a sorcerer!"

The model shook his head.

"I don't understand it," he said, slowly.

"Nay, I could tell you more than that if I liked," said Mueller, with an
air of mystery.

"About myself?"

"Ay, about yourself, and others."

Guichet, having just lighted his cigar, forgot to put it to his lips.

"What others?" he asked, with a look half of dull bewilderment and half
of apprehension.

Mueller shrugged his shoulders.

"Pshaw!" said he; "I know more than you think I know, Guichet. There's
our friend, you know--he of whom I made the head t'other day ... you
remember?"

The model, still looking at him, made no answer.

"Why didn't you say at once where you had met him, and all the rest of
it, _mon vieux_? You might have been sure I should find out for myself,
sooner or later."

The model turned abruptly towards the fire-place, and, leaning his head
against the mantel-shelf, stood with his back towards us, looking down
into the fire.

"You ask me why I did not tell you at once?" he said, very slowly.

"Ay--why not?"

"Why not? Because--because when a man has begun to lead an honest life,
and has gone on leading an honest life, as I have, for years, he is glad
to put the past behin