and I keep on telling them so--nay, shouting it to them--but what's
the good? They won't nibble, they won't nibble!'

He was trying the emotional dodge; then, with the spirit of a man
about to do something rash: 'Well, it sha'n't be said that I came in
to waste your time. What do you want for that rough sketch?'

Claude, still irritated, was painting nervously. He dryly answered,
without even turning his head: 'Twenty francs.'

'Nonsense; twenty francs! you must be mad. You sold me the others ten
francs a-piece--and to-day I won't give a copper more than eight
francs.'

As a rule the painter closed with him at once, ashamed and humbled at
this miserable chaffering, glad also to get a little money now and
then. But this time he was obstinate, and took to insulting the
picture-dealer, who, giving tit for tat, all at once dropped the
formal 'you' to assume the glib 'thou,' denied his talent, overwhelmed
him with invective, and taxed him with ingratitude. Meanwhile,
however, he had taken from his pocket three successive five-franc
pieces, which, as if playing at chuck-farthing, he flung from a
distance upon the table, where they rattled among the crockery.

'One, two, three--not one more, dost hear? for there is already one
too many, and I'll take care to get it back; I'll deduct it from
something else of thine, as I live. Fifteen francs for that! Thou art
wrong, my lad, and thou'lt be sorry for this dirty trick.'

Quite exhausted, Claude let him take down the little canvas, which