The two friends walked up and down for some time, and several
young men who knew Souchet or Schinner joined them. The painter's
adventure, which the sculptor regarded as unimportant, was
repeated by him.

"So he, too, has seen that young lady!" said Souchet.

And then there were comments, laughter, innocent mockery, full of
the liveliness familiar to artists, but which pained Hippolyte
frightfully. A certain native reticence made him uncomfortable as
he saw his heart's secret so carelessly handled, his passion
rent, torn to tatters, a young and unknown girl, whose life
seemed to be so modest, the victim of condemnation, right or
wrong, but pronounced with such reckless indifference. He
pretended to be moved by a spirit of contradiction, asking each
for proofs of his assertions, and their jests began again.

"But, my dear boy, have you seen the Baroness' shawl?" asked
Souchet.

"Have you ever followed the girl when she patters off to church
in the morning?" said Joseph Bridau, a young dauber in Gros'
studio.

"Oh, the mother has among other virtues a certain gray gown,
which I regard as typical," said Bixiou, the caricaturist.

"Listen, Hippolyte," the sculptor went on. "Come here at about
four o'clock, and just study the walk of both mother and
daughter. If after that you still have doubts! well, no one can