,,the ,,hidden ,,masterpiece ,by ,honore ,de ,balzac ,translated by ,katharine ,prescott ,wormeley ,,the ,,hidden ,,masterpiece ,,chapter ,i ,on a cold morning in ,december1 towards the close of the year #afab1 a young man1 whose clothing betrayed his poverty1 was standing before the door of a house in the ,rue des ,grands-,augustine1 in ,paris4 ,after walking to and fro for some time with the hesitation of a lover who fears to approach his mistress1 however complying she may be1 he ended by crossing the threshold and asking if ,maitre ,francois ,porbus were within4 ,at the affirmative answer of an old woman who was sweeping out one of the lower rooms the young man slowly mounted the stairway1 stopping from time to time and hesitating1 like a newly fledged courier doubtful as to what sort of reception the king might grant him4 ,when he reached the upper landing of the spiral ascent1 he paused a moment before laying hold of a grotesque knocker which ornamented the door of the atelier where the famous painter of ,henry ,,iv4--neglected by ,marie de ,medicis for ,rubens--was probably at work4 ,the young man felt the strong sensation which vibrates in the soul of great artists when1 in the flush of youth and of their ardor for art1 they approach a man of genius or a masterpiece4 ,in all human sentiments there are1 as it were1 primeval flowers bred of noble enthusiasms1 which droop and fade from year to year1 till joy is but a memory and glory a lie4 ,amid such fleeting emotions nothing so resembles love as the young passion of an artist who tastes the first delicious anguish of his destined fame and woe1--a passion daring yet timid1 full of vague confidence and sure discouragement4 ,is there a man1 slender in fortune1 rich in his spring-time of genius1 whose heart has not beaten loudly as he approached a master of his art8 ,if there be1 that man will forever lack some heart-string1 some touch1 ,i know not what1 of his brush1 some fibre in his creations1 some sentiment in his poetry4 ,when braggarts1 self-satisfied and in love with themselves1 step early into the fame which belongs rightly to their future achievements1 they are men of genius only in the eyes of fools4 ,if talent is to be measured by youthful shyness1 by that indefinable modesty which men born to glory lose in the practice of their art1 as a pretty woman loses hers among the artifices of coquetry1 then this unknown young man might claim to be possessed of genuine merit4 ,the habit of success lessens doubt2 and modesty1 perhaps1 is doubt4 ,worn down with poverty and discouragement1 and dismayed at this moment by his own presumption1 the young neophyte might not have dared to enter the presence of the master to whom we owe our admirable portrait of ,henry ,,iv41 if chance had not thrown an unexpected assistance in his way4 ,an old man mounted the spiral stairway4 ,the oddity of his dress1 the magnificence of his lace ruffles1 the solid assurance of his deliberate step1 led the youth to assume that this remarkable personage must be the patron1 or at least the intimate friend1 of the painter4 ,he drew back into a corner of the landing and made room for the new-comer2 looking at him attentively and hoping to find either the frank good-nature of the artistic temperament1 or the serviceable disposition of those who promote the arts4 ,but on the contrary he fancied he saw something diabolical in the expression of the old man's face1--something1 ,i know not what1 which has the quality of alluring the artistic mind4 ,imagine a bald head1 the brow full and prominent and falling with deep projection over a little flattened nose turned up at the end like the noses of ,rabelais and ,socrates2 a laughing1 wrinkled mouth2 a short chin boldly chiselled and garnished with a gray beard cut into a point2 sea-green eyes1 faded perhaps by age1 but whose pupils1 contrasting with the pearl-white balls on which they floated1 cast at times magnetic glances of anger or enthusiasm4 ,the face in other respects was singularly withered and worn by the weariness of old age1 and still more1 it would seem1 by the action of thoughts which had undermined both soul and body4 ,the eyes had lost their lashes1 and the eyebrows were scarcely traced along the projecting arches where they belonged4 ,imagine such a head upon a lean and feeble body1 surround it with lace of dazzling whiteness worked in meshes like a fish-slice1 festoon the black velvet doublet of the old man with a heavy gold chain1 and you will have a faint idea of the exterior of this strange individual1 to whose appearance the dusky light of the landing lent fantastic coloring4 ,you might have thought that a canvas of ,rembrandt without its frame had walked silently up the stairway1 bringing with it the dark atmosphere which was the sign-manual of the great master4 ,the old man cast a look upon the youth which was full of sagacity2 then he rapped three times upon the door1 and said1 when it was opened by a man in feeble health1 apparently about forty years of age1 8,good-morning1 maitre40 ,porbus bowed respectfully1 and made way for his guest1 allowing the youth to pass in at the same time1 under the impression that he came with the old man1 and taking no further notice of him2 all the less perhaps because the neophyte stood still beneath the spell which holds a heaven-born painter as he sees for the first time an atelier filled with the materials and instruments of his art4 ,daylight came from a casement in the roof and fell1 focussed as it were1 upon a canvas which rested on an easel in the middle of the room1 and which bore1 as yet1 only three or four chalk lines4 ,the light thus concentrated did not reach the dark angles of the vast atelier2 but a few wandering reflections gleamed through the russet shadows on the silvered breastplate of a horseman's cuirass of the fourteenth century as it hung from the wall1 or sent sharp lines of light upon the carved and polished cornice of a dresser which held specimens of rare pottery and porcelains1 or touched with sparkling points the rough-grained texture of ancient gold-brocaded curtains1 flung in broad folds about the room to serve the painter as models for his drapery4 ,anatomical casts in plaster1 fragments and torsos of antique goddesses amorously polished by the kisses of centuries1 jostled each other upon shelves and brackets4 ,innumerable sketches1 studies in the three crayons1 in ink1 and in red chalk covered the walls from floor to ceiling2 color-boxes1 bottles of oil and turpentine1 easels and stools upset or standing at right angles1 left but a narrow pathway to the circle of light thrown from the window in the roof1 which fell full on the pale face of ,porbus and on the ivory skull of his singular visitor4 ,the attention of the young man was taken exclusively by a picture destined to become famous after those days of tumult and revolution1 and which even then was precious in the sight of certain opinionated individuals to whom we owe the preservation of the divine afflatus through the dark days when the life of art was in jeopardy4 ,this noble picture represents the ,mary of ,egypt as she prepares to pay for her passage by the ship4 ,it is a masterpiece1 painted for ,marie de ,medicis1 and afterwards sold by her in the days of her distress4 8,i like your saint10 said the old man to ,porbus1 8and ,i will give you ten golden crowns over and above the queen's offer2 but as to entering into competition with her--the devil60 8,you do like her1 then80 8,as for that10 said the old man1 8yes1 and no4 ,the good woman is well set-up1 but--she is not living4 ,you young men think you have done all when you have drawn the form correctly1 and put everything in place according to the laws of anatomy4 ,you color the features with flesh-tones1 mixed beforehand on your palette1--taking very good care to shade one side of the face darker than the other2 and because you draw now and then from a nude woman standing on a table1 you think you can copy nature2 you fancy yourselves painters1 and imagine that you have got at the secret of ,god's creations6 ,pr-r-r-r6--,to be a great poet it is not enough to know the rules of syntax and write faultless grammar4 ,look at your saint1 ,porbus4 ,at first sight she is admirable2 but at the very next glance we perceive that she is glued to the canvas1 and that we cannot walk round her4 ,she is a silhouette with only one side1 a semblance cut in outline1 an image that can't turn nor change her position4 ,i feel no air between this arm and the background of the picture2 space and depth are wanting4 ,all is in good perspective2 the atmospheric gradations are carefully observed1 and yet in spite of your conscientious labor ,i cannot believe that this beautiful body has the warm breath of life4 ,if ,i put my hand on that firm1 round throat ,i shall find it cold as marble4 ,no1 no1 my friend1 blood does not run beneath that ivory skin2 the purple tide of life does not swell those veins1 nor stir those fibres which interlace like net-work below the translucent amber of the brow and breast4 ,this part palpitates with life1 but that other part is not living2 life and death jostle each other in every detail4 ,here1 you have a woman2 there1 a statue2 here again1 a dead body4 ,your creation is incomplete4 ,you have breathed only a part of your soul into the well-beloved work4 ,the torch of ,prometheus went out in your hands over and over again2 there are several parts of your painting on which the celestial flame never shone40 8,but why is it so1 my dear master80 said ,porbus humbly1 while the young man could hardly restrain a strong desire to strike the critic4 8,ah6 that is the question10 said the little old man4 8,you are floating between two systems1--between drawing and color1 between the patient phlegm and honest stiffness of the old ,dutch masters and the dazzling warmth and abounding joy of the ,italians4 ,you have tried to follow1 at one and the same time1 ,hans ,holbein and ,titian2 ,albrecht ,durier and ,paul ,veronese4 ,well1 well6 it was a glorious ambition1 but what is the result8 ,you have neither the stern attraction of severity nor the deceptive magic of the chiaroscuro4 ,see6 at this place the rich1 clear color of ,titian has forced out the skeleton outline of ,albrecht ,durier1 as molten bronze might burst and overflow a slender mould4 ,here and there the outline has resisted the flood1 and holds back the magnificent torrent of ,venetian color4 ,your figure is neither perfectly well painted nor perfectly well drawn2 it bears throughout the signs of this unfortunate indecision4 ,if you did not feel that the fire of your genius was hot enough to weld into one the rival methods1 you ought to have chosen honestly the one or the other1 and thus attained the unity which conveys one aspect1 at least1 of life4 ,as it is1 you are true only on your middle plane4 ,your outlines are false2 they do not round upon themselves2 they suggest nothing behind them4 ,there is truth here10 said the old man1 pointing to the bosom of the saint2 8and here10 showing the spot where the shoulder ended against the background2 8but there10 he added1 returning to the throat1 8it is all false4 ,do not inquire into the why and wherefore4 ,i should fill you with despair40 ,the old man sat down on a stool and held his head in his hands for some minutes in silence4 8,master10 said ,porbus at length1 8,i studied that throat from the nude2 but1 to our sorrow1 there are effects in nature which become false or impossible when placed on canvas40 8,the mission of art is not to copy nature1 but to represent it4 ,you are not an abject copyist1 but a poet10 cried the old man1 hastily interrupting ,porbus with a despotic gesture4 8,if it were not so1 a sculptor could reach the height of his art by merely moulding a woman4 ,try to mould the hand of your mistress1 and see what you will get1--ghastly articulations1 without the slightest resemblance to her living hand2 you must have recourse to the chisel of a man who1 without servilely copying that hand1 can give it movement and life4 ,it is our mission to seize the mind1 soul1 countenance of things and beings4 ,effects6 effects6 what are they8 the mere accidents of the life1 and not the life itself4 ,a hand1--since ,i have taken that as an example1--a hand is not merely a part of the body1 it is far more2 it expresses and carries on a thought which we must seize and render4 ,neither the painter nor the poet nor the sculptor should separate the effect from the cause1 for they are indissolubly one4 ,the true struggle of art lies there4 ,many a painter has triumphed through instinct without knowing this theory of art as a theory4 8,yes10 continued the old man vehemently1 8you draw a woman1 but you do not see her4 ,that is not the way to force an entrance into the arcana of ,nature4 ,your hand reproduces1 without an action of your mind1 the model you copied under a master4 ,you do not search out the secrets of form1 nor follow its windings and evolutions with enough love and perseverance4 ,beauty is solemn and severe1 and cannot be attained in that way2 we must wait and watch its times and seasons1 and clasp it firmly ere it yields to us4 ,form is a ,proteus less easily captured1 more skilful to double and escape1 than the ,proteus of fable2 it is only at the cost of struggle that we compel it to come forth in its true aspects4 ,you young men are content with the first glimpse you get of it2 or1 at any rate1 with the second or the third4 ,this is not the spirit of the great warriors of art1--invincible powers1 not misled by will-o'-the-wisps1 but advancing always until they force ,nature to lie bare in her divine integrity4 ,that was ,raphael's method10 said the old man1 lifting his velvet cap in homage to the sovereign of art2 8his superiority came from the inward essence which seems to break from the inner to the outer of his figures4 ,form with him was what it is with us1--a medium by which to communicate ideas1 sensations1 feelings2 in short1 the infinite poesy of being4 ,every figure is a world2 a portrait1 whose original stands forth like a sublime vision1 colored with the rainbow tints of light1 drawn by the monitions of an inward voice1 laid bare by a divine finger which points to the past of its whole existence as the source of its given expression4 ,you clothe your women with delicate skins and glorious draperies of hair1 but where is the blood which begets the passion or the peace of their souls1 and is the cause of what you call #8effects'8 ,your saint is a dark woman2 but this1 my poor ,porbus1 belongs to a fair one4 ,your figures are pale1 colored phantoms1 which you present to our eyes2 and you call that painting6 art6 ,because you make something which looks more like a woman than a house1 you think you have touched the goal2 proud of not being obliged to write 8currus venustus0 or 8pulcher homo0 on the frame of your picture1 you think yourselves majestic artists like our great forefathers4 ,ha1 ha6 you have not got there yet1 my little men2 you will use up many a crayon and spoil many a canvas before you reach that height4 ,undoubtedly a woman carries her head this way and her petticoats that way2 her eyes soften and droop with just that look of resigned gentleness2 the throbbing shadow of the eyelashes falls exactly thus upon her cheek4 ,that is it1 and--that is not it4 ,what lacks8 ,a mere nothing2 but that mere nothing is all4 ,you have given the shadow of life1 but you have not given its fulness1 its being1 its--,i know not what--soul1 perhaps1 which floats vaporously about the tabernacle of flesh2 in short1 that flower of life which ,raphael and ,titian culled4 ,start from the point you have now attained1 and perhaps you may yet paint a worthy picture2 you grew weary too soon4 ,mediocrity will extol your work2 but the true artist smiles4 ,o ,mabuse6 ,o my master60 added this singular person1 8you were a thief2 you have robbed us of your life1 your knowledge1 your art6 ,but at least10 he resumed after a pause1 8this picture is better than the paintings of that rascally ,rubens1 with his mountains of ,flemish flesh daubed with vermilion1 his cascades of red hair1 and his hurly-burly of color4 ,at any rate1 you have got the elements of color1 drawing1 and sentiment1--the three essential parts of art40 8,but the saint is sublime1 good sir60 cried the young man in a loud voice1 waking from a deep reverie4 8,these figures1 the saint and the boatman1 have a subtile meaning which the ,italian painters cannot give4 ,i do not know one of them who could have invented that hesitation of the boatman40 8,does the young fellow belong to you80 asked ,porbus of the old man4 8,alas1 maitre1 forgive my boldness10 said the neophyte1 blushing4 8,i am all unknown2 only a dauber by instinct4 ,i have just come to ,paris1 that fountain of art and science40 8,let us see what you can do10 said ,porbus1 giving him a red crayon and a piece of paper4 ,the unknown copied the saint with an easy turn of his hand4 8,oh6 oh60 exclaimed the old man1 8what is your name80 ,the youth signed the drawing3 ,nicolas ,poussin4 8,not bad for a beginner10 said the strange being who had discoursed so wildly4 8,i see that it is worth while to talk art before you4 ,i don't blame you for admiring ,porbus's saint4 ,it is a masterpiece for the world at large2 only those who are behind the veil of the holy of holies can perceive its errors4 ,but you are worthy of a lesson1 and capable of understanding it4 ,i will show you how little is needed to turn that picture into a true masterpiece4 ,give all your eyes and all your attention2 such a chance of instruction may never fall in your way again4 ,your palette1 ,porbus40 ,porbus fetched his palette and brushes4 ,the little old man turned up his cuffs with convulsive haste1 slipped his thumb through the palette charged with prismatic colors1 and snatched1 rather than took1 the handful of brushes which ,porbus held out to him4 ,as he did so his beard1 cut to a point1 seemed to quiver with the eagerness of an incontinent fancy2 and while he filled his brush he muttered between his teeth3-- 8,colors fit to fling out of the window with the man who ground them1--crude1 false1 revolting6 who can paint with them80 ,then he dipped the point of his brush with feverish haste into the various tints1 running through the whole scale with more rapidity than the organist of a cathedral runs up the gamut of the 8,o ,filii0 at ,easter4 ,porbus and ,poussin stood motionless on either side of the easel1 plunged in passionate contemplation4 8,see1 young man10 said the old man without turning round1 8see how with three or four touches and a faint bluish glaze you can make the air circulate round the head of the poor saint1 who was suffocating in that thick atmosphere4 ,look how the drapery now floats1 and you see that the breeze lifts it2 just now it looked like heavy linen held out by pins4 ,observe that the satiny lustre ,i am putting on the bosom gives it the plump suppleness of the flesh of a young girl4 ,see how this tone of mingled reddish-brown and ochre warms up the cold grayness of that large shadow where the blood seemed to stagnate rather than flow4 ,young man1 young man6 what ,i am showing you now no other master in the world can teach you4 ,mabuse alone knew the secret of giving life to form4 ,mabuse had but one pupil1 and ,i am he4 ,i never took a pupil1 and ,i am an old man now4 ,you are intelligent enough to guess at what should follow from the little that ,i shall show you to-day40 ,while he was speaking1 the extraordinary old man was giving touches here and there to all parts of the picture4 ,here two strokes of the brush1 there one1 but each so telling that together they brought out a new painting1--a painting steeped1 as it were1 in light4 ,he worked with such passionate ardor that the sweat rolled in great drops from his bald brow2 and his motions seemed to be jerked out of him with such rapidity and impatience that the young ,poussin fancied a demon1 encased with the body of this singular being1 was working his hands fantastically like those of a puppet without1 or even against1 the will of their owner4 ,the unnatural brightness of his eyes1 the convulsive movements which seemed the result of some mental resistance1 gave to this fancy of the youth a semblance of truth which reacted upon his lively imagination4 ,the old man worked on1 muttering half to himself1 half to his neophyte3-- 8,paf6 paf6 paf6 that is how we butter it on1 young man4 ,ah6 my little pats1 you are right2 warm up that icy tone4 ,come1 come6--pon1 pon1 pon1--0 he continued1 touching up the spots where he had complained of a lack of life1 hiding under layers of color the conflicting methods1 and regaining the unity of tone essential to an ardent ,egyptian4 8,now see1 my little friend1 it is only the last touches of the brush that count for anything4 ,porbus put on a hundred2 ,i have only put on one or two4 ,nobody will thank us for what is underneath1 remember that60 ,at last the demon paused2 the old man turned to ,porbus and ,poussin1 who stood mute with admiration1 and said to them1-- 8,it is not yet equal to my ,beautiful ,nut-girl2 still1 one can put one's name to such a work4 ,yes1 ,i will sign it10 he added1 rising to fetch a mirror in which to look at what he had done4 8,now let us go and breakfast4 ,come1 both of you1 to my house4 ,i have some smoked ham and good wine4 ,hey6 hey6 in spite of the degenerate times we will talk painting2 we are strong ourselves4 ,here is a little man10 he continued1 striking ,nicolas ,poussin on the shoulder1 8who has the faculty40 ,observing the shabby cap of the youth1 he pulled from his belt a leathern purse from which he took two gold pieces and offered them to him1 saying1-- 8,i buy your drawing40 8,take them10 said ,porbus to ,poussin1 seeing that the latter trembled and blushed with shame1 for the young scholar had the pride of poverty2 8take them1 he has the ransom of two kings in his pouch40 ,the three left the atelier and proceeded1 talking all the way of art1 to a handsome wooden house standing near the ,pont ,saint-,michel1 whose window-casings and arabesque decoration amazed ,poussin4 ,the embryo painter soon found himself in one of the rooms on the ground floor seated1 beside a good fire1 at a table covered with appetizing dishes1 and1 by unexpected good fortune1 in company with two great artists who treated him with kindly attention4 8,young man10 said ,porbus1 observing that he was speechless1 with his eyes fixed on a picture1 8do not look at that too long1 or you will fall into despair40 ,it was the ,adam of ,mabuse1 painted by that wayward genius to enable him to get out of the prison where his creditors had kept him so long4 ,the figure presented such fulness and force of reality that ,nicolas ,poussin began to comprehend the meaning of the bewildering talk of the old man4 ,the latter looked at the picture with a satisfied but not enthusiastic manner1 which seemed to say1 8,i have done better myself40 8,there is life in the form10 he remarked4 8,my poor master surpassed himself there2 but observe the want of truth in the background4 ,the man is living1 certainly2 he rises and is coming towards us2 but the atmosphere1 the sky1 the air that we breathe1 see1 feel1--where are they8 ,besides1 that is only a man2 and the being who came first from the hand of ,god must needs have had something divine about him which is lacking here4 ,mabuse said so himself with vexation in his sober moments40 ,poussin looked alternately at the old man and at ,porbus with uneasy curiosity4 ,he turned to the latter as if to ask the name of their host1 but the painter laid a finger on his lips with an air of mystery1 and the young man1 keenly interested1 kept silence1 hoping that sooner or later some word of the conversation might enable him to guess the name of the old man1 whose wealth and genius were sufficiently attested by the respect which ,porbus showed him1 and by the marvels of art heaped together in the picturesque apartment4 ,poussin1 observing against the dark panelling of the wall a magnificent portrait of a woman1 exclaimed aloud1 8,what a magnificent ,giorgione60 8,no10 remarked the old man1 8that is only one of my early daubs40 8,zounds60 cried ,poussin naively2 8are you the king of painters80 ,the old man smiled1 as if long accustomed to such homage4 8,maitre ,frenhofer10 said ,porbus1 8could you order up a little of your good ,rhine wine for me80 8,two casks10 answered the host2 8one to pay for the pleasure of looking at your pretty sinner this morning1 and the other as a mark of friendship40 8,ah6 if ,i were not so feeble10 resumed ,porbus1 8and if you would consent to let me see your ,beautiful ,nut-girl1 ,i too could paint some lofty picture1 grand and yet profound1 where the forms should have the living life40 8,show my work60 exclaimed the old man1 with deep emotion4 8,no1 no6 ,i have still to bring it to perfection4 ,yesterday1 towards evening1 ,i thought it was finished4 ,her eyes were liquid1 her flesh trembled1 her tresses waved--she breathed6 ,and yet1 though ,i have grasped the secret of rendering on a flat canvas the relief and roundness of nature1 this morning at dawn ,i saw many errors4 ,ah6 to attain that glorious result1 ,i have studied to their depths the masters of color4 ,i have analyzed and lifted1 layer by layer1 the colors of ,titian1 king of light4 ,like him1 great sovereign of art1 ,i have sketched my figure in light clear tones of supple yet solid color2 for shadow is but an accident1--remember that1 young man4 ,then ,i worked backward1 as it were2 and by means of half-tints1 and glazings whose transparency ,i kept diminishing little by little1 ,i was able to cast strong shadows deepening almost to blackness4 ,the shadows of ordinary painters are not of the same texture as their tones of light4 ,they are wood1 brass1 iron1 anything you please except flesh in shadow4 ,we feel that if the figures changed position the shady places would not be wiped off1 and would remain dark spots which never could be made luminous4 ,i have avoided that blunder1 though many of our most illustrious painters have fallen into it4 ,in my work you will see whiteness beneath the opacity of the broadest shadow4 ,unlike the crowd of ignoramuses1 who fancy they draw correctly because they can paint one good vanishing line1 ,i have not dryly outlined my figures1 nor brought out superstitiously minute anatomical details2 for1 let me tell you1 the human body does not end off with a line4 ,in that respect sculptors get nearer to the truth of nature than we do4 ,nature is all curves1 each wrapping or overlapping another4 ,to speak rigorously1 there is no such thing as drawing4 ,do not laugh1 young man2 no matter how strange that saying seems to you1 you will understand the reasons for it one of these days4 ,a line is a means by which man explains to himself the effect of light upon a given object2 but there is no such thing as a line in nature1 where all things are rounded and full4 ,it is only in modelling that we really draw1--in other words1 that we detach things from their surroundings and put them in their due relief4 ,the proper distribution of light can alone reveal the whole body4 ,for this reason ,i do not sharply define lineaments2 ,i diffuse about their outline a haze of warm1 light half-tints1 so that ,i defy any one to place a finger on the exact spot where the parts join the groundwork of the picture4 ,if seen near by this sort of work has a woolly effect1 and is wanting in nicety and precision2 but go a few steps off and the parts fall into place2 they take their proper form and detach themselves1--the body turns1 the limbs stand out1 we feel the air circulating around them4 8,nevertheless10 he continued1 sadly1 8,i am not satisfied2 there are moments when ,i have my doubts4 ,perhaps it would be better not to sketch a single line4 ,i ask myself if ,i ought not to grasp the figure first by its highest lights1 and then work down to the darker portions4 ,is not that the method of the sun1 divine painter of the universe8 ,o ,nature1 ,nature6 who has ever caught thee in thy flights8 ,alas6 the heights of knowledge1 like the depths of ignorance1 lead to unbelief4 ,i doubt my work40 ,the old man paused1 then resumed4 8,for ten years ,i have worked1 young man2 but what are ten short years in the long struggle with ,nature8 ,we do not know the type it cost ,pygmalion to make the only statue that ever walked--0 ,he fell into a reverie and remained1 with fixed eyes1 oblivious of all about him1 playing mechanically with his knife4 8,see1 he is talking to his own soul10 said ,porbus in a low voice4 ,the words acted like a spell on ,nicolas ,poussin1 filling him with the inexplicable curiosity of a true artist4 ,the strange old man1 with his white eyes fixed in stupor1 became to the wondering youth something more than a man2 he seemed a fantastic spirit inhabiting an unknown sphere1 and waking by its touch confused ideas within the soul4 ,we can no more define the moral phenomena of this species of fascination than we can render in words the emotions excited in the heart of an exile by a song which recalls his fatherland4 ,the contempt which the old man affected to pour upon the noblest efforts of art1 his wealth1 his manners1 the respectful deference shown to him by ,porbus1 his work guarded so secretly1--a work of patient toil1 a work no doubt of genius1 judging by the head of the ,virgin which ,poussin had so naively admired1 and which1 beautiful beside even the ,adam of ,mabuse1 betrayed the imperial touch of a great artist1--in short1 everything about the strange old man seemed beyond the limits of human nature4 ,the rich imagination of the youth fastened upon the one perceptible and clear clew to the mystery of this supernatural being1--the presence of the artistic nature1 that wild impassioned nature to which such mighty powers have been confided1 which too often abuses those powers1 and drags cold reason and common souls1 and even lovers of art1 over stony and arid places1 where for such there is neither pleasure nor instruction2 while to the artistic soul itself1--that white-winged angel of sportive fancy1--epics1 works of art1 and visions rise along the way4 ,it is a nature1 an essence1 mocking yet kind1 fruitful though destitute4 ,thus1 for the enthusiastic ,poussin1 the old man became by sudden transfiguration ,art itself1--art with all its secrets1 its transports1 and its dreams4 8,yes1 my dear ,porbus10 said ,frenhofer1 speaking half in reverie1 8,i have never yet beheld a perfect woman2 a body whose outlines were faultless and whose flesh-tints--,ah6 where lives she80 he cried1 interrupting his own words2 8where lives the lost ,venus of the ancients1 so long sought for1 whose scattered beauty we snatch by glimpses8 ,oh6 to see for a moment1 a single moment1 the divine completed nature1--the ideal1--,i would give my all of fortune4 ,yes2 ,i would search thee out1 celestial ,beauty6 in thy farthest sphere4 ,like ,orpheus1 ,i would go down to hell to win back the life of art--0 8,let us go10 said ,porbus to ,poussin2 8he neither sees nor hears us any longer40 8,let us go to his atelier10 said the wonder-struck young man4 8,oh6 the old dragon has guarded the entrance4 ,his treasure is out of our reach4 ,i have not waited for your wish or urging to attempt an assault on the mystery40 8,mystery6 then there is a mystery80 8,yes10 answered ,porbus4 8,frenhofer was the only pupil ,mabuse was willing to teach4 ,he became the friend1 saviour1 father of that unhappy man1 and he sacrificed the greater part of his wealth to satisfy the mad passions of his master4 ,in return1 ,mabuse bequeathed to him the secret of relief1 the power of giving life to form1--that flower of nature1 our perpetual despair1 which ,mabuse had seized so well that once1 having sold and drunk the value of a flowered damask which he should have worn at the entrance of ,charles ,v41 he made his appearance in a paper garment painted to resemble damask4 ,the splendor of the stuff attracted the attention of the emperor1 who1 wishing to compliment the old drunkard1 laid a hand upon his shoulder and discovered the deception4 ,frenhofer is a man carried away by the passion of his art2 he sees above and beyond what other painters see4 ,he has meditated deeply on color and the absolute truth of lines2 but by dint of much research1 much thought1 much study1 he has come to doubt the object for which he is searching4 ,in his hours of despair he fancies that drawing does not exist1 and that lines can render nothing but geometric figures4 ,that1 of course1 is not true2 because with a black line which has no color we can represent the human form4 ,this proves that our art is made up1 like nature1 of an infinite number of elements4 ,drawing gives the skeleton1 and color gives the life2 but life without the skeleton is a far more incomplete thing than the skeleton without the life4 ,but there is a higher truth still1--namely1 that practice and observation are the essentials of a painter2 and that if reason and poesy persist in wrangling with the tools1 the brushes1 we shall be brought to doubt1 like ,frenhofer1 who is as much excited in brain as he is exalted in art4 ,a sublime painter1 indeed2 but he had the misfortune to be born rich1 and that enables him to stray into theory and conjecture4 ,do not imitate him4 ,work6 work6 painters should theorize with their brushes in their hands40 8,we will contrive to get in10 cried ,poussin1 not listening to ,porbus1 and thinking only of the hidden masterpiece4 ,porbus smiled at the youth's enthusiasm1 and bade him farewell with a kindly invitation to come and visit him4 99 99 99 99 99 ,nicolas ,poussin returned slowly towards the ,rue de la ,harpe and passed1 without observing that he did so1 the modest hostelry where he was lodging4 ,returning presently upon his steps1 he ran up the miserable stairway with anxious rapidity until he reached an upper chamber nestling between the joists of a roof 8en colombage10--the plain1 slight covering of the houses of old ,paris4 ,near the single and gloomy window of the room sat a young girl1 who rose quickly as the door opened1 with a gesture of love2 she had recognized the young man's touch upon the latch4 8,what is the matter80 she asked4 8,it is--it is10 he cried1 choking with joy1 8that ,i feel myself a painter6 ,i have doubted it till now2 but to-day ,i believe in myself4 ,i can be a great man4 ,ah1 ,gillette1 we shall be rich1 happy6 ,there is gold in these brushes60 ,suddenly he became silent4 ,his grave and earnest face lost its expression of joy2 he was comparing the immensity of his hopes with the mediocrity of his means4 ,the walls of the garret were covered with bits of paper on which were crayon sketches2 he possessed only four clean canvases4 ,colors were at that time costly1 and the poor gentleman gazed at a palette that was well-nigh bare4 ,in the midst of this poverty he felt within himself an indescribable wealth of heart and the superabundant force of consuming genius4 ,brought to ,paris by a gentleman of his acquaintance1 and perhaps by the monition of his own talent1 he had suddenly found a mistress1--one of those generous and noble souls who are ready to suffer by the side of a great man2 espousing his poverty1 studying to comprehend his caprices1 strong to bear deprivation and bestow love1 as others are daring in the display of luxury and in parading the insensibility of their hearts4 ,the smile which flickered on her lips brightened as with gold the darkness of the garret and rivalled the effulgence of the skies2 for the sun did not always shine in the heavens1 but she was always here1--calm and collected in her passion1 living in his happiness1 his griefs2 sustaining the genius which overflowed in love ere it found in art its destined expression4 8,listen1 ,gillette2 come60 ,the obedient1 happy girl sprang lightly on the painter's knee4 ,she was all grace and beauty1 pretty as the spring-time1 decked with the wealth of feminine charm1 and lighting all with the fire of a noble soul4 8,o ,god60 he exclaimed1 8,i can never tell her60 8,a secret60 she cried2 8then ,i must know it40 ,poussin was lost in thought4 8,tell me40 8,gillette1 poor1 beloved heart60 8,ah6 do you want something of me80 8,yes40 8,if you want me to pose as ,i did the other day10 she said1 with a little pouting air1 8,i will not do it4 ,your eyes say nothing to me1 then4 ,you look at me1 but you do not think of me40 8,would you like me to copy another woman80 8,perhaps10 she answered1 8if she were very ugly40 8,well10 continued ,poussin1 in a grave tone1 8if to make me a great painter it were necessary to pose to some one else--0 8,you are testing me10 she interrupted2 8you know well that ,i would not do it40 ,poussin bent his head upon his breast like a man succumbing to joy or grief too great for his spirit to bear4 8,listen10 she said1 pulling him by the sleeve of his worn doublet1 8,i told you1 ,nick1 that ,i would give my life for you2 but ,i never said--never6--that ,i1 a living woman1 would renounce my love40 8,renounce it80 cried ,poussin4 8,if ,i showed myself thus to another you would love me no longer2 and ,i myself1 ,i should feel unworthy of your love4 ,to obey your caprices1 ah1 that is simple and natural6 in spite of myself1 ,i am proud and happy in doing thy dear will2 but to another1 fy60 8,forgive me1 my own ,gillette10 said the painter1 throwing himself at her feet4 8,i would rather be loved than famous4 ,to me thou art more precious than fortune and honors4 ,yes1 away with these brushes6 burn those sketches6 ,i have been mistaken4 ,my vocation is to love thee1--thee alone6 ,i am not a painter1 ,i am thy lover4 ,perish art and all its secrets60 ,she looked at him admiringly1 happy and captivated by his passion4 ,she reigned2 she felt instinctively that the arts were forgotten for her sake1 and flung at her feet like grains of incense4 8,yet he is only an old man10 resumed ,poussin4 8,in you he would see only a woman4 ,you are the perfect woman whom he seeks40 8,love should grant all things60 she exclaimed1 ready to sacrifice love's scruples to reward the lover who thus seemed to sacrifice his art to her4 8,and yet10 she added1 8it would be my ruin4 ,ah1 to suffer for thy good6 ,yes1 it is glorious6 ,but thou wilt forget me4 ,how came this cruel thought into thy mind80 8,it came there1 and yet ,i love thee10 he said1 with a sort of contrition4 8,am ,i1 then1 a wretch80 8,let us consult ,pere ,hardouin40 8,no1 no6 it must be a secret between us40 8,well1 ,i will go2 but thou must not be present10 she said4 8,stay at the door1 armed with thy dagger4 ,if ,i cry out1 enter and kill the man40 ,forgetting all but his art1 ,poussin clasped her in his arms4 8,he loves me no longer60 thought ,gillette1 when she was once more alone4 ,she regretted her promise4 ,but before long she fell a prey to an anguish far more cruel than her regret2 and she struggled vainly to drive forth a terrible fear which forced its way into her mind4 ,she felt that she loved him less as the suspicion rose in her heart that he was less worthy than she had thought him4 ,,chapter ,,ii ,three months after the first meeting of ,porbus and ,poussin1 the former went to see ,maitre ,frenhofer4 ,he found the old man a prey to one of those deep1 self-developed discouragements1 whose cause1 if we are to believe the mathematicians of health1 lies in a bad digestion1 in the wind1 in the weather1 in some swelling of the intestines1 or else1 according to casuists1 in the imperfections of our moral nature2 the fact being that the good man was simply worn out by the effort to complete his mysterious picture4 ,he was seated languidly in a large oaken chair of vast dimensions covered with black leather2 and without changing his melancholy attitude he cast on ,porbus the distant glance of a man sunk in absolute dejection4 8,well1 maitre10 said ,porbus1 8was the distant ultra-marine1 for which you journeyed to ,brussels1 worthless8 ,are you unable to grind a new white8 ,is the oil bad1 or the brushes restive80 8,alas60 cried the old man1 8,i thought for one moment that my work was accomplished2 but ,i must have deceived myself in some of the details4 ,i shall have no peace until ,i clear up my doubts4 ,i am about to travel2 ,i go to ,turkey1 ,asia1 ,greece1 in search of models4 ,i must compare my picture with various types of ,nature4 ,it may be that ,i have up there10 he added1 letting a smile of satisfaction flicker on his lip1 8,nature herself4 ,at times ,i am half afraid that a brush may wake this woman1 and that she will disappear from sight40 ,he rose suddenly1 as if to depart at once4 8,wait10 exclaimed ,porbus4 8,i have come in time to spare you the costs and fatigues of such a journey40 8,how so80 asked ,frenhofer1 surprised4 8,young ,poussin is beloved by a woman whose incomparable beauty is without imperfection4 ,but1 my dear master1 if he consents to lend her to you1 at least you must let us see your picture40 ,the old man remained standing1 motionless1 in a state bordering on stupefaction4 8,what60 he at last exclaimed1 mournfully4 8,show my creature1 my spouse8--tear off the veil with which ,i have chastely hidden my joy8 ,it would be prostitution6 ,for ten years ,i have lived with this woman2 she is mine1 mine alone6 she loves me6 ,has she not smiled upon me as1 touch by touch1 ,i painted her8 ,she has a soul1--the soul with which ,i endowed her4 ,she would blush if other eyes than mine beheld her4 ,let her be seen8--where is the husband1 the lover1 so debased as to lend his wife to dishonor8 ,when you paint a picture for the court you do not put your whole soul into it2 you sell to courtiers your tricked-out lay-figures4 ,my painting is not a picture2 it is a sentiment1 a passion6 ,born in my atelier1 she must remain a virgin there4 ,she shall not leave it unclothed4 ,poesy and women give themselves bare1 like truth1 to lovers only4 ,have we the model of ,raphael1 the ,angelica of ,ariosto1 the ,beatrice of ,dante8 ,no1 we see but their semblance4 ,well1 the work which ,i keep hidden behind bolts and bars is an exception to all other art4 ,it is not a canvas2 it is a woman1--a woman with whom ,i weep and laugh and think and talk4 ,would you have me resign the joy of ten years1 as ,i might throw away a worn-out doublet8 ,shall ,i1 in a moment1 cease to be father1 lover1 creator8--this woman is not a creature2 she is my creation4 ,bring your young man2 ,i will give him my treasures1--paintings of ,correggio1 ,michael-,angelo1 ,titian2 ,i will kiss the print of his feet in the dust1--but make him my rival8 ,shame upon me6 ,ha6 ,i am more a lover than ,i am a painter4 ,i shall have the strength to burn my ,nut-girl ere ,i render my last sigh2 but suffer her to endure the glance of a man1 a young man1 a painter8--,no1 no6 ,i would kill on the morrow the man who polluted her with a look6 ,i would kill you1--you1 my friend1--if you did not worship her on your knees2 and think you ,i would submit my idol to the cold eyes and stupid criticisms of fools8 ,ah1 love is a mystery6 its life is in the depths of the soul2 it dies when a man says1 even to his friend1 ,here is she whom ,i love40 ,the old man seemed to renew his youth2 his eyes had the brilliancy and fire of life1 his pale cheeks blushed a vivid red1 his hands trembled4 ,porbus1 amazed by the passionate violence with which he uttered these words1 knew not how to answer a feeling so novel and yet so profound4 ,was the old man under the thraldom of an artist's fancy8 ,or did these ideas flow from the unspeakable fanaticism produced at times in every mind by the long gestation of a noble work8 ,was it possible to bargain with this strange and whimsical being8 ,filled with such thoughts1 ,porbus said to the old man1 8,is it not woman for woman8 ,poussin lends his mistress to your eyes40 8,what sort of mistress is that80 cried ,frenhofer4 8,she will betray him sooner or later4 ,mine will be to me forever faithful40 8,well10 returned ,porbus1 8then let us say no more4 ,but before you find1 even in ,asia1 a woman as beautiful1 as perfect1 as the one ,i speak of1 you may be dead1 and your picture forever unfinished40 8,oh1 it is finished60 said ,frenhofer4 8,whoever sees it will find a woman lying on a velvet bed1 beneath curtains2 perfumes are exhaling from a golden tripod by her side3 he will be tempted to take the tassels of the cord that holds back the curtain2 he will think he sees the bosom of ,catherine ,lescaut1--a model called the ,beautiful ,nut-girl2 he will see it rise and fall with the movement of her breathing4 ,yet--,i wish ,i could be sure--0 8,go to ,asia1 then10 said ,porbus hastily1 fancying he saw some hesitation in the old man's eye4 ,porbus made a few steps towards the door of the room4 ,at this moment ,gillette and ,nicolas ,poussin reached the entrance of the house4 ,as the young girl was about to enter1 she dropped the arm of her lover and shrank back as if overcome by a presentiment4 8,what am ,i doing here80 she said to ,poussin1 in a deep voice1 looking at him fixedly4 8,gillette1 ,i leave you mistress of your actions2 ,i will obey your will4 ,you are my conscience1 my glory4 ,come home2 ,i shall be happy1 perhaps1 if you1 yourself--0 8,have ,i a self when you speak thus to me8 ,oh1 no6 ,i am but a child4 ,come10 she continued1 seeming to make a violent effort4 8,if our love perishes1 if ,i put into my heart a long regret1 thy fame shall be the guerdon of my obedience to thy will4 ,let us enter4 ,i may yet live again1--a memory on thy palette40 ,opening the door of the house the two lovers met ,porbus coming out4 ,astonished at the beauty of the young girl1 whose eyes were still wet with tears1 he caught her all trembling by the hand and led her to the old master4 8,there60 he cried2 8is she not worth all the masterpieces in the world80 ,frenhofer quivered4 ,gillette stood before him in the ingenuous1 simple attitude of a young ,georgian1 innocent and timid1 captured by brigands and offered to a slave-merchant4 ,a modest blush suffused her cheeks1 her eyes were lowered1 her hands hung at her sides1 strength seemed to abandon her1 and her tears protested against the violence done to her purity4 ,poussin cursed himself1 and repented of his folly in bringing this treasure from their peaceful garret4 ,once more he became a lover rather than an artist2 scruples convulsed his heart as he saw the eye of the old painter regain its youth and1 with the artist's habit1 disrobe as it were the beauteous form of the young girl4 ,he was seized with the jealous frenzy of a true lover4 8,gillette60 he cried2 8let us go40 ,at this cry1 with its accent of love1 his mistress raised her eyes joyfully and looked at him2 then she ran into his arms4 8,ah6 you love me still80 she whispered1 bursting into tears4 ,though she had had strength to hide her suffering1 she had none to hide her joy4 8,let me have her for one moment10 exclaimed the old master1 8and you shall compare her with my ,catherine4 ,yes1 yes2 ,i consent60 ,there was love in the cry of ,frenhofer as in that of ,poussin1 mingled with jealous coquetry on behalf of his semblance of a woman2 he seemed to revel in the triumph which the beauty of his virgin was about to win over the beauty of the living woman4 8,do not let him retract10 cried ,porbus1 striking ,poussin on the shoulder4 8,the fruits of love wither in a day2 those of art are immortal40 8,can it be10 said ,gillette1 looking steadily at ,poussin and at ,porbus1 8that ,i am nothing more than a woman to him80 ,she raised her head proudly2 and as she glanced at ,frenhofer with flashing eyes she saw her lover gazing once more at the picture he had formerly taken for a ,giorgione4 8,ah60 she cried1 8let us go in2 he never looked at me like that60 8,old man60 said ,poussin1 roused from his meditation by ,gillette's voice1 8see this sword4 ,i will plunge it into your heart at the first cry of that young girl4 ,i will set fire to your house1 and no one shall escape from it4 ,do you understand me80 ,his look was gloomy and the tones of his voice were terrible4 ,his attitude1 and above all the gesture with which he laid his hand upon the weapon1 comforted the poor girl1 who half forgave him for thus sacrificing her to his art and to his hopes of a glorious future4 ,porbus and ,poussin remained outside the closed door of the atelier1 looking at one another in silence4 ,at first the painter of the ,egyptian ,mary uttered a few exclamations3 8,ah1 she unclothes herself60--8,he tells her to stand in the light60--8,he compares them60 but he grew silent as he watched the mournful face of the young man2 for though old painters have none of such petty scruples in presence of their art1 yet they admire them in others1 when they are fresh and pleasing4 ,the young man held his hand on his sword1 and his ear seemed glued to the panel of the door4 ,both men1 standing darkly in the shadow1 looked like conspirators waiting the hour to strike a tyrant4 8,come in6 come in60 cried the old man1 beaming with happiness4 8,my work is perfect2 ,i can show it now with pride4 ,never shall painter1 brushes1 colors1 canvas1 light1 produce the rival of ,catherine ,lescaut1 the ,beautiful ,nut-girl40 ,porbus and ,poussin1 seized with wild curiosity1 rushed into the middle of a vast atelier filled with dust1 where everything lay in disorder1 and where they saw a few paintings hanging here and there upon the walls4 ,they stopped before the figure of a woman1 life-sized and half nude1 which filled them with eager admiration4 8,do not look at that10 said ,frenhofer1 8it is only a daub which ,i made to study a pose2 it is worth nothing4 ,those are my errors10 he added1 waving his hand towards the enchanting compositions on the walls around them4 ,at these words ,porbus and ,poussin1 amazed at the disdain which the master showed for such marvels of art1 looked about them for the secret treasure1 but could see it nowhere4 8,there it is60 said the old man1 whose hair fell in disorder about his face1 which was scarlet with supernatural excitement4 ,his eyes sparkled1 and his breast heaved like that of a young man beside himself with love4 8,ah60 he cried1 8did you not expect such perfection8 ,you stand before a woman1 and you are looking for a picture6 ,there are such depths on that canvas1 the air within it is so true1 that you are unable to distinguish it from the air you breathe4 ,where is art8 ,departed1 vanished6 ,here is the form itself of a young girl4 ,have ,i not caught the color1 the very life of the line which seems to terminate the body8 ,the same phenomenon which we notice around fishes in the water is also about objects which float in air4 ,see how these outlines spring forth from the background4 ,do you not feel that you could pass your hand behind those shoulders8 ,for seven years have ,i studied these effects of light coupled with form4 ,that hair1--is it not bathed in light8 ,why1 she breathes6 ,that bosom1--see6 ,ah6 who would not worship it on bended knee8 ,the flesh palpitates6 ,wait1 she is about to rise2 wait60 8,can you see anything80 whispered ,poussin to ,porbus4 8,nothing4 ,can you80 8,no40 ,the two painters drew back1 leaving the old man absorbed in ecstasy1 and tried to see if the light1 falling plumb upon the canvas at which he pointed1 had neutralized all effects4 ,they examined the picture1 moving from right to left1 standing directly before it1 bending1 swaying1 rising by turns4 8,yes1 yes2 it is really a canvas10 cried ,frenhofer1 mistaking the purpose of their examination4 8,see1 here is the frame1 the easel2 these are my colors1 my brushes40 ,and he caught up a brush which he held out to them with a naive motion4 8,the old rogue is making game of us10 said ,poussin1 coming close to the pretended picture4 8,i can see nothing here but a mass of confused color1 crossed by a multitude of eccentric lines1 making a sort of painted wall40 8,we are mistaken4 ,see60 returned ,porbus4 ,coming nearer1 they perceived in a corner of the canvas the point of a naked foot1 which came forth from the chaos of colors1 tones1 shadows hazy and undefined1 misty and without form1--an enchanting foot1 a living foot4 ,they stood lost in admiration before this glorious fragment breaking forth from the incredible1 slow1 progressive destruction around it4 ,the foot seemed to them like the torso of some ,grecian ,venus1 brought to light amid the ruins of a burned city4 8,there is a woman beneath it all60 cried ,porbus1 calling ,poussin's attention to the layers of color which the old painter had successively laid on1 believing that he thus brought his work to perfection4 ,the two men turned towards him with one accord1 beginning to comprehend1 though vaguely1 the ecstasy in which he lived4 8,he means it in good faith10 said ,porbus4 8,yes1 my friend10 answered the old man1 rousing from his abstraction1 8we need faith2 faith in art4 ,we must live with our work for years before we can produce a creation like that4 ,some of these shadows have cost me endless toil4 ,see1 there on her cheek1 below the eyes1 a faint half-shadow2 if you observed it in ,nature you might think it could hardly be rendered4 ,well1 believe me1 ,i took unheard-of pains to reproduce that effect4 ,my dear ,porbus1 look attentively at my work1 and you will comprehend what ,i have told you about the manner of treating form and outline4 ,look at the light on the bosom1 and see how by a series of touches and higher lights firmly laid on ,i have managed to grasp light itself1 and combine it with the dazzling whiteness of the clearer tones2 and then see how1 by an opposite method1--smoothing off the sharp contrasts and the texture of the color1--,i have been able1 by caressing the outline of my figure and veiling it with cloudy half-tints1 to do away with the very idea of drawing and all other artificial means1 and give to the form the aspect and roundness of ,nature itself4 ,come nearer1 and you will see the work more distinctly2 if too far off it disappears4 ,see6 there1 at that point1 it is1 ,i think1 most remarkable40 ,and with the end of his brush he pointed to a spot of clear light color4 ,porbus struck the old man on the shoulder1 turning to ,poussin as he did so1 and said1 8,do you know that he is one of our greatest painters80 8,he is a poet even more than he is a painter10 answered ,poussin gravely4 8,there10 returned ,porbus1 touching the canvas1 8is the ultimate end of our art on earth40 8,and from thence10 added ,poussin1 8it rises1 to enter heaven40 8,how much happiness is there6--upon that canvas10 said ,porbus4 ,the absorbed old man gave no heed to their words2 he was smiling at his visionary woman4 8,but sooner or later1 he will perceive that there is nothing there10 cried ,poussin4 8,nothing there6--upon my canvas80 said ,frenhofer1 looking first at the two painters1 and then at his imaginary picture4 8,what have you done80 cried ,porbus1 addressing ,poussin4 ,the old man seized the arm of the young man violently1 and said to him1 8,you see nothing8--clown1 infidel1 scoundrel1 dolt6 ,why did you come here8 ,my good ,porbus10 he added1 turning to his friend1 8is it possible that you1 too1 are jesting with me8 ,answer2 ,i am your friend4 ,tell me1 can it be that ,i have spoiled my picture80 ,porbus hesitated1 and feared to speak2 but the anxiety painted on the white face of the old man was so cruel that he was constrained to point to the canvas and utter the word1 8,see60 ,frenhofer looked at his picture for a space of a moment1 and staggered4 8,nothing6 nothing6 after toiling ten years60 ,he sat down and wept4 8,am ,i then a fool1 an idiot8 ,have ,i neither talent nor capacity8 ,am ,i no better than a rich man who walks1 and can only walk8 ,have ,i indeed produced nothing80 ,he gazed at the canvas through tears4 ,suddenly he raised himself proudly and flung a lightning glance upon the two painters4 8,by the blood1 by the body1 by the head of ,christ1 you are envious men who seek to make me think she is spoiled1 that you may steal her from me4 ,i--,i see her60 he cried4 8,she is wondrously beautiful60 ,at this moment ,poussin heard the weeping of ,gillette as she stood1 forgotten1 in a corner4 8,what troubles thee1 my darling80 asked the painter1 becoming once more a lover4 8,kill me60 she answered4 8,i should be infamous if ,i still loved thee1 for ,i despise thee4 ,i admire thee2 but thou hast filled me with horror4 ,i love1 and yet already ,i hate thee40 ,while ,poussin listened to ,gillette1 ,frenhofer drew a green curtain before his ,catherine1 with the grave composure of a jeweller locking his drawers when he thinks that thieves are near him4 ,he cast at the two painters a look which was profoundly dissimulating1 full of contempt and suspicion2 then1 with convulsive haste1 he silently pushed them through the door of his atelier4 ,when they reached the threshold of his house he said to them1 8,adieu1 my little friends40 ,the tone of this farewell chilled the two painters with fear4 99 99 99 99 99 ,on the morrow ,porbus1 alarmed1 went again to visit ,frenhofer1 and found that he had died during the night1 after having burned his paintings4