of the young woman, and the accessories. One can count the pencil-
strokes of the Hercules of painters. It is not only a masterpiece, sir;
it is a treasure--a relic! The picture at the Louvre may be a pearl,
this is a diamond!"

And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light,
he fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the
wonderful picture. One would have said that the sight of it gave the
crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied his
glass by little sips. His shrivelled features became smooth, his
nostrils expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, "a feast for the
eyes."

"You see that I also have my treat," he resumed, nodding his head with an
air of triumph. "Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me, this
is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival."

"But if this painting is really so precious," replied I, "it ought to be
worth a high price."

"Eh! eh!" said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference. "In good
times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand
francs."

I started back.

"And you have bought it?" cried I.

"For nothing," replied he, lowering his voice. "These brokers are asses;
mine mistook this for a student's copy; he let me have it for fifty