Mademoiselle Noemie remained silent; at last she dropped into a seat.
"Well then, for those five it is fixed," she said. "Five copies as
brilliant and beautiful as I can make them. We have one more to choose.
Shouldn't you like one of those great Rubenses--the marriage of Marie de
Medicis? Just look at it and see how handsome it is."

"Oh, yes; I should like that," said Newman. "Finish off with that."

"Finish off with that--good!" And she laughed. She sat a moment, looking
at him, and then she suddenly rose and stood before him, with her hands
hanging and clasped in front of her. "I don't understand you," she said
with a smile. "I don't understand how a man can be so ignorant."

"Oh, I am ignorant, certainly," said Newman, putting his hands into his
pockets.

"It's ridiculous! I don't know how to paint."

"You don't know how?"

"I paint like a cat; I can't draw a straight line. I never sold a
picture until you bought that thing the other day." And as she offered
this surprising information she continued to smile.

Newman burst into a laugh. "Why do you tell me this?" he asked.

"Because it irritates me to see a clever man blunder so. My pictures are
grotesque."

"And the one I possess--"