prominent place, appeared this inscription: 'On the 7th of June, Gorfu
declared that he didn't care a hang for Rome.--Signed, Godemard.'*

* The allusion is to the French Art School at Rome, and the
competitions into which students enter to obtain admission
to it, or to secure the prizes offered for the best exhibits
which, during their term of residence, they send to Paris.--ED.

Claude was greeted with a growl like that of wild beasts disturbed in
their lair. What kept him motionless was the strange aspect of this
place on the morning of the 'truck night,' as the embryo architects
termed the crucial night of labour. Since the previous evening, the
whole studio, some sixty pupils, had been shut up there; those who had
no designs to exhibit--'the niggers,' as they were called remaining to
help the others, the competitors who, being behind time, had to knock
off the work of a week in a dozen hours. Already, at midnight, they
had stuffed themselves with brawn, saveloys, and similar viands,
washed down with cheap wine. Towards one o'clock they had secured the
company of some 'ladies'; and, without the work abating, the feast had
turned into a Roman orgy, blended with a smoking competition. On the
damp, stained floor there remained a great litter of greasy paper and
broken bottles; while the atmosphere reeked of burnt tallow, musk,
highly seasoned sausages, and cheap bluish wine.

And now many voices savagely yelled: 'Turn him out. Oh, that mug! What
does he want, that guy? Turn him out, turn him out.'

For a moment Claude, quite dazed, staggered beneath the violence of
the onslaught. But the epithets became viler, for the acme of
elegance, even for the more refined among these young fellows, was to