Porbus hesitated, and feared to speak; but the anxiety painted on the
white face of the old man was so cruel that he was constrained to
point to the canvas and utter the word, "See!"

Frenhofer looked at his picture for a space of a moment, and
staggered.

"Nothing! nothing! after toiling ten years!"

He sat down and wept.

"Am I then a fool, an idiot? Have I neither talent nor capacity? Am I
no better than a rich man who walks, and can only walk? Have I indeed
produced nothing?"

He gazed at the canvas through tears. Suddenly he raised himself
proudly and flung a lightning glance upon the two painters.

"By the blood, by the body, by the head of Christ, you are envious men
who seek to make me think she is spoiled, that you may steal her from
me. I--I see her!" he cried. "She is wondrously beautiful!"

At this moment Poussin heard the weeping of Gillette as she stood,
forgotten, in a corner.

"What troubles thee, my darling?" asked the painter, becoming once
more a lover.

"Kill me!" she answered. "I should be infamous if I still loved thee,