"As you prophesied, your boy won his way into my foolish heart. I used
him as a model frequently, and let him hang around me in my idle
moments. I even gave him clay to play with, and he played with it to
some effect, his great fault--and it is a very great one--being a
tendency to do things in miniature. I reproved him good-naturedly--for
me, and he so far improved as to model a horse--the size of the palm of
your hand."

Leighton bowed once more in recognition of the pause.

"One day," continued Le Brux, "the boy rushed in here without knocking.
He had something to show me. I did not have the hardihood to rebuke him,
but, remembering myself in the quality of wet nurse, I was dismayed, for
on this very couch lay Cellette--Cellette _simple_, without garnishings,
you understand. She was lying on her front, her chin in her hand, and
reading a book. I let her read a book, when I can, for my own peace.

"Well, the boy showed me what he had to show, and that gave me time to
collect my wits. I saw him look at Cellette without a tremor, and just
as I was deciding to take the moment by the horns, he did it for me.
'Oh,' he said, 'are you working on her? _Mon matre_, please let me
watch!' A vile tongue, English, to understand, but it was easy to read
his eyes. I said, 'Watch away, my child,' and I continued to transmit
Cellette to the cloud up there in my big group. The boy stood around.
When I glanced at the model, his eyes followed. When I worked, he worked
with me.

"My old one, you may believe it or not, but I felt that boy's fingers
itching all the time. Finally, I chucked a great lump of clay upon the