louis, ready money! This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes
to be off the bargain."

"This morning!" repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter
containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son's
widow, which was still on the little table.

He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work
of Jordaens in an ecstasy.

"What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!" he murmured, biting his last crust in
delight. "What relief! what fire! Where can one find such transparency
of color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!"

As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for
admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder.

"You are dazzled," said he merrily; "you did not expect such a treasure!
What do you say to the bargain I have made?"

"Pardon me," replied I, gravely; "but I think you might have done
better."

M. Antoine raised his head.

"How!" cried he; "do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about
the merit or value of a painting?"

"I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking
that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have