exalted them; an intentional ignorance of the necessities of social
life, the crazy dream of having none but artists upon earth. They
seemed very stupid at times, but, all the same, their passion made
them strong and brave.

Claude became excited. Faith in himself revived amidst the glow of
common hopes. His worry of the morning had only left a vague numbness
behind, and he now once more began to discuss his picture with Sandoz
and Mahoudeau, swearing, it is true, that he would destroy it the next
day. Jory, who was very short-sighted, stared at all the elderly
ladies he met, and aired his theories on artistic work. A man ought to
give his full measure at once in the first spurt of inspiration; as
for himself, he never corrected anything. And, still discussing, the
four friends went on down the boulevard, which, with its comparative
solitude, and its endless rows of fine trees, seemed to have been
expressly designed as an arena for their disputations. When they
reached the Esplanade, the wrangling became so violent that they
stopped in the middle of that large open space. Beside himself, Claude
called Jory a numskull; was it not better to destroy one's work than
to launch a mediocre performance upon the world? Truckling to trade
was really disgusting. Mahoudeau and Sandoz, on their side, shouted
both together at the same time. Some passers-by, feeling uneasy,
turned round to look, and at last gathered round these furious young
fellows, who seemed bent on swallowing each other. But they went off
vexed, thinking that some practical joke had been played upon them,
when they suddenly saw the quartette, all good friends again, go into
raptures over a wet-nurse, dressed in light colours, with long
cherry-tinted ribbons streaming from her cap. There, now! That was
something like--what a tint, what a bright note it set amid the
surroundings! Delighted, blinking their eyes, they followed the nurse