"Yes, I did. I can even show you some of my pictures."
Rozanof looked at them, and then he said:
"You have very good capabilities, but you have been taught in a stupid
school."
The prince was delighted.
"Well," he asked, "if I began to study now, do you think I should ever
paint anything good?"
"I think it's very probable indeed."
"Even if I've been an idler up till now?"
"Oh, that's nothing. You can overcome it by work."
"When my hair is grey?"
"That doesn't matter either. Other people have begun later than you. If
you like, I'll give you lessons myself."
So they began to work together. Rozanof could only marvel at the great
gift for painting which the prince displayed. And the prince was so
taken up by his work that he never wanted to leave it, and had to be
dragged away by force.
Five months passed. Then, one day, Rozanof came to the prince and said:
"Well, my colleague, you are ripening in your art, and you already
understand what a drawing is and the school. Formerly you were a
savage, but now you have developed a refined taste. Come with me and I
will show you the picture I once gave you a hint about. Until now I've
kept it a secret from everybody, but now I'll show you, and you can
tell me your opinion of it."
He led the prince into his studio, placed him in a corner from whence
he could get a good view, and drew a curtain which hung in front of the
picture. It represented St. Barbara washing the sores on the feet of
lepers.
The prince stood for a long time and looked at the picture, and his
face became gloomy as if it had been darkened.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Rozanof.
"This----" answered the prince, with rancour, "that I shall never touch
a paint-brush again."