"_Sacre non_!" shouted the old gentleman, with another rap of the
umbrella. "I saw you do it! Everybody saw you do It!"

"Nay, if Monsieur will but do me the honor to believe that I was simply
sketching from nature, as the train...."

"An impudent subterfuge, sir!" interrupted the old gentleman. "An
impudent subterfuge, and nothing less!"

Müller drew himself up with immense dignity.

"Monsieur," he said, haughtily, "that is an expression which I must
request you to retract. I have already assured you, on the word of a
gentleman...."

"A gentleman, indeed! A pretty gentleman! He takes my portrait, and...."

"I have not taken your portrait, Monsieur."

"Good heavens!" cried the old gentleman, looking round, "was ever such
assurance! Did not every one present see him in the act? I appeal to
every one--to you, Monsieur--to you, Mesdames,--to you, reverend
father,--did you not all see this person taking my portrait?"

"Nay, then, if it must come to this," said Müller, "let the sketch be
evidence, and let these ladies and gentlemen decide whether it is really
the portrait of Monsieur--and if they think it like?"

Saying which, he held up the book, and displayed a head, sketched, it is
true, with admirable spirit and cleverness, but--the head of an ass,