The old gentleman could stand it no longer.

"Monsieur," said he, angrily. "Monsieur, I will thank you not to take my
portrait. I object to it. Monsieur."

"Charming distance," said Müller, addressing himself to me "Wants
interest, however, in the foreground. That's a picturesque tree yonder,
is it not?"

The old gentleman struck his umbrella sharply on the floor.

"It's of no use, Monsieur," he exclaimed, getting more red and excited.
"You are taking my portrait, and I object to it. I know you are taking
my portrait."

Müller looked up dreamily.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," said he. "Did you speak?'

"Yes, Monsieur. I did speak. I repeat that you shall not take my
portrait."

"Your portrait, Monsieur?"

"Yes, my portrait!"

"But, Monsieur," remonstrated the artist, with an air of mingled candor
and surprise, "I never dreamed of taking your portrait!"