On seeing Popinot, who stood in the doorway craning his neck like a
startled animal, with his left hand in his pocket, and the right hand
holding a hat with a greasy lining, the Marquise gave Rastignac a look
wherein lay a germ of mockery. The good man's rather foolish
appearance was so completely in harmony with his grotesque figure and
scared looks, that Rastignac, catching sight of Bianchon's dejected
expression of humiliation through his uncle, could not help laughing,
and turned away. The Marquise bowed a greeting, and made a great
effort to rise from her seat, falling back again, not without grace,
with an air of apologizing for her incivility by affected weakness.

At this instant the person who was standing between the fireplace and
the door bowed slightly, and pushed forward two chairs, which he
offered by a gesture to the doctor and the judge; then, when they had
seated themselves, he leaned against the wall again, crossing his
arms.

A word as to this man. There is living now, in our day, a painter
--Decamps--who possesses in the very highest degree the art of
commanding your interest in everything he sets before your eyes,
whether it be a stone or a man. In this respect his pencil is more
skilful than his brush. He will sketch an empty room and leave a broom
against the wall. If he chooses, you shall shudder; you shall believe
that this broom has just been the instrument of crime, and is dripping
with blood; it shall be the broom which the widow Bancal used to clean
out the room where Fualdes was murdered. Yes, the painter will touzle
that broom like a man in a rage; he will make each hair of it stand
on-end as though it were on your own bristling scalp; he will make it
the interpreter between the secret poem of his imagination and the