I was telling Gogin how I had seen at Christie’s some pictures by Watts
and how much I had disliked them. He said some of them had been
exhibited in Paris a few years ago and a friend of his led him up to one
of them and said in a serious, puzzled, injured tone:
“Mon cher ami, racontez-moi donc ceci, s’il vous plait,” as though their
appearance in such a place at all were something that must have an
explanation not obvious upon the face of it.