were then at liberty had made it a habit to look in for a moment. That
day, as the weather was fine and bright, the little tables outside
under the awning were occupied by rows of customers, obstructing the
footway. But the band hated all elbowing and public exhibition, so
they jostled the other people in order to go inside, where all was
deserted and cool.

'Hallo, there's Fagerolles by himself,' exclaimed Claude.

He had gone straight to their usual table at the end of the cafe, on
the left, where he shook hands with a pale, thin, young man, whose
pert girlish face was lighted up by a pair of winning, satirical grey
eyes, which at times flashed like steel. They all sat down and ordered
beer, after which the painter resumed:

'Do you know that I went to look for you at your father's; and a nice
reception he gave me.'

Fagerolles, who affected a low devil-may-care style, slapped his
thighs. 'Oh, the old fellow plagues me! I hooked it this morning,
after a row. He wants me to draw some things for his beastly zinc
stuff. As if I hadn't enough zinc stuff at the Art School.'

This slap at the professors delighted the young man's friends. He
amused them and made himself their idol by dint of alternate flattery
and blame. His smile went from one to the other, while, by the aid of
a few drops of beer spilt on the table, his long nimble fingers began
tracing complicated sketches. His art evidently came very easily to
him; it seemed as if he could do anything with a turn of the hand.