“I shall have time enough to see Henri VIII.”
Both of them had finished their meal. The notary insisted on paying the
two bills, wishing to repay his neighbor's civilities. He also paid
for the drinks of the young fellows in red velvet; then he left the
establishment with the painter.
They stopped in front of a very long, low house, the first story having
the appearance of an interminable conservatory. Six studios stood in a
row with their fronts facing the boulevards.
Romantin was the first to enter, and, ascending the stairs, he opened a
door, and lighted a match and then a candle.
They found themselves in an immense apartment, the furniture of which
consisted of three chairs, two easels, and a few sketches standing
on the ground along the walls. M. Saval remained standing at the door
somewhat astonished.
The painter remarked:
“Here you are! we've got to the spot; but everything has yet to be
done.”
Then, examining the high, bare apartment, its ceiling disappearing in
the darkness, he said:
“We might make a great deal out of this studio.”
He walked round it, surveying it with the utmost attention, then went
on:
“I know someone who might easily give a helping hand. Women are
incomparable for hanging drapery. But I sent her to the country for
to-day in order to get her off my hands this evening. It is not that she
bores me, but she is too much lacking in the ways of good society. It
would be embarrassing to my guests.”
He reflected for a few seconds, and then added:
“She is a good girl, but not easy to deal with. If she knew that I was
holding a reception, she would tear out my eyes.”