,,the ,,unknown ,,masterpiece    ,by    
,honor ,de ,balzac    ,,to ,a ,,lord    
#ahde          ,i--,,gillette    ,on a  
cold ,december morning in the year      
#afab1 a young man1 whose clothing  was 
somewhat of the thinnest1 was walking to
 and fro before a gateway  in the ,rue  
des ,grands-,augustins in ,paris4 ,he   
went up and down the street  before this
 house with the irresolution of a       
gallant who dares not  venture into the 
presence of the mistress whom he loves  
for the first  time1 easy of access     
though she may be2 but after a          
sufficiently long  interval of          
hesitation1 he at last crossed the      
threshold and inquired  of an old woman1
 who was sweeping out a large room on   
the ground floor1  whether ,master      
,porbus was within4 ,receiving a reply  
in the affirmative1  the young man went 
slowly up the staircase1 like a         
gentleman but newly  come to court1 and 
doubtful as to his reception by the     
king4 ,he came to  a stand once more on 

the landing at the head of the stairs1  
and again he  hesitated before raising  
his hand to the grotesque knocker on the
 door  of the studio1 where doubtless   
the painter was at work--,master        
,porbus1  sometime painter in ordinary  
to ,henri ,,iv till ,mary de' ,medici   
took  ,rubens into favor4    ,the young 
man felt deeply stirred by an emotion   
that must thrill the  hearts of all     
great artists when1 in the pride of     
their youth and their  first love of    
art1 they come into the presence of a   
master or stand  before a masterpiece4  
,for all human sentiments there is a    
time of early  blossoming1 a day of     
generous enthusiasm that gradually fades
 until  nothing is left of happiness but
 a memory1 and glory is known for  a    
delusion4 ,of all these delicate and    
short-lived emotions1 none so  resemble 
love as the passion of a young artist   
for his art1 as he is  about to enter on
 the blissful martyrdom of his career of
 glory and  disaster1 of vague          

expectations and real disappointments4  
,those who have missed this experience  
in the early days of light purses2  who 
have not1 in the dawn of their genius1  
stood in the presence of  a master and  
felt the throbbing of their hearts1 will
 always carry in  their inmost souls a  
chord that has never been touched1 and  
in their  work an indefinable quality   
will be lacking1 a something in the     
stroke  of the brush1 a mysterious      
element that we call poetry4 ,the       
swaggerers1  so puffed up by            
self-conceit that they are confident    
over-soon of their  success1 can never  
be taken for men of talent save by      
fools4 ,from this  point of view1 if    
youthful modesty is the measure of      
youthful genius1  the stranger on the   
staircase might be allowed to have      
something in  him2 for he seemed to     
possess the indescribable diffidence1   
the early  timidity that artists are    
bound to lose in the course of a great  
career1  even as pretty women lose it as

 they make progress in the arts of      
coquetry4 ,self-distrust vanishes as    
triumph succeeds to triumph1 and        
modesty is1 perhaps1 distrust of itself4
    ,the poor neophyte was so overcome  
by the consciousness of his own         
presumption and insignificance1 that it 
began to look as if he was  hardly      
likely to penetrate into the studio of  
the painter1 to whom we  owe the        
wonderful portrait of ,henri ,,iv4 ,but 
fate was propitious2 an old  man came up
 the staircase4 ,from the quaint costume
 of this newcomer1 his  collar of       
magnificent lace1 and a certain serene  
gravity in his bearing1  the first      
arrival thought that this personage must
 be either a patron or  a friend of the 
court painter4 ,he stood aside therefore
 upon the landing  to allow the visitor 
to pass1 scrutinizing him curiously the 
while4  ,perhaps he might hope to find  
the good nature of an artist or to      
receive  the good offices of an amateur 
not unfriendly to the arts2 but besides 

an almost diabolical expression in the  
face that met his gaze1 there was  that 
indescribable something which has an    
irresistible attraction for  artists4   
,picture that face4 ,a bald high        
forehead and rugged jutting brows above 
a small flat nose turned up at the end1 
as in the portraits of ,socrates  and   
,rabelais2 deep lines about the mocking 
mouth2 a short chin1 carried  proudly1  
covered with a grizzled pointed beard2  
sea-green eyes that age  might seem to  
have dimmed were it not for the contrast
 between the iris  and the surrounding  
mother-of-pearl tints1 so that it seemed
 as if under  the stress of anger or    
enthusiasm there would be a magnetic    
power to  quell or kindle in their      
glances4 ,the face was withered beyond  
wont by  the fatigue of years1 yet it   
seemed aged still more by the thoughts  
that  had worn away both soul and body4 
,there were no lashes to the deep-set   
eyes1 and scarcely a trace of the       
arching lines of the eyebrows above     

them4 ,set this head on a spare and     
feeble frame1 place it in a frame of    
lace wrought like an engraved silver    
fish-slice1 imagine a heavy gold  chain 
over the old man's black doublet1 and   
you will have some dim idea  of this    
strange personage1 who seemed still more
 fantastic in the sombre  twilight of   
the staircase4 ,one of ,rembrandt's     
portraits might have  stepped down from 
its frame to walk in an appropriate     
atmosphere of  gloom1 such as the great 
painter loved4 ,the older man gave the  
younger a  shrewd glance1 and knocked   
thrice at the door4 ,it was opened by a 
man of  forty or thereabout1 who seemed 
to be an invalid4    8,good day1        
,master40    ,porbus bowed respectfully1
 and held the door open for the younger 
man to  enter1 thinking that the latter 
accompanied his visitor2 and when he    
saw that the neophyte stood a while as  
if spellbound1 feeling1 as every        
artist-nature must feel1 the fascinating
 influence of the first sight  of a     

studio in which the material processes  
of art are revealed1 ,porbus  troubled  
himself no more about this second comer4
    ,all the light in the studio came   
from a window in the roof1 and was      
concentrated upon an easel1 where a     
canvas stood untouched as yet save  for 
three or four outlines in chalk4 ,the   
daylight scarcely reached the  remoter  
angles and corners of the vast room2    
they were as dark as night1  but the    
silver ornamented breastplate of a      
,reiter's corselet1 that hung  upon the 
wall1 attracted a stray gleam to its dim
 abiding-place among  the brown shadows2
 or a shaft of light shot across the    
carved and  glistening surface of an    
antique sideboard covered with curious  
silver-plate1 or struck out a line of   
glittering dots among the raised        
threads of the golden warp of some old  
brocaded curtains1 where the  lines of  
the stiff1 heavy folds were broken1 as  
the stuff had been flung  carelessly    
down to serve as a model4    ,plaster   

corchs stood about the room2 and here   
and there1 on shelves  and tables1 lay  
fragments of classical sculpture-torsos 
of antique  goddesses1 worn smooth as   
though all the years of the centuries   
that had  passed over them had been     
lovers' kisses4 ,the walls were covered1
 from  floor to ceiling1 with countless 
sketches in charcoal1 red chalk1 or  pen
 and ink4 ,amid the litter and confusion
 of color boxes1 overturned  stools1    
flasks of oil1 and essences1 there was  
just room to move so as  to reach the   
illuminated circular space where the    
easel stood4 ,the light  from the window
 in the roof fell full upon ,por-bus's  
pale face and on  the ivory-tinted      
forehead of his strange visitor4 ,but in
 another moment  the younger man heeded 
nothing but a picture that had already  
become  famous even in those stormy days
 of political and religious revolution1 
a picture that a few of the zealous     
worshipers1 who have so often kept  the 
sacred fire of art alive in evil days1  

were wont to go on pilgrimage  to see4  
,the beautiful panel represented a      
,saint ,mary of ,egypt about to  pay her
 passage across the seas4 ,it was a     
masterpiece destined for ,mary  de'     
,medici1 who sold it in later years of  
poverty4    8,i like your saint10 the   
old man remarked1 addressing ,porbus4   
8,i would  give you ten golden crowns   
for her over and above the price the    
,queen is  paying2 but as for putting a 
spoke in that wheel1--the devil take    
it60    8,it is good then80    8,hey6   
hey60 said the old man2 8good1 say      
you8--,yes and no4 ,your good  woman is 
not badly done1 but she is not alive4   
,you artists fancy that  when a figure  
is correctly drawn1 and everything in   
its place according  to the rules of    
anatomy1 there is nothing more to be    
done4 ,you make up  the flesh tints     
beforehand on your palettes according to
 your formulae1  and fill in the        
outlines with due care that one side of 
the face shall  be darker than the      

other2 and because you look from time to
 time at a  naked woman who stands on   
the platform before you1 you fondly     
imagine  that you have copied nature1   
think yourselves to be painters1 believe
  that you have wrested ,his secret from
 ,god4 ,pshaw6 ,you may know your       
syntax thoroughly and make no blunders  
in your grammar1 but it takes  that and 
something more to make a great poet4    
,look at your saint1  ,porbus6 ,at a    
first glance she is admirable2 look at  
her again1 and you  see at once that she
 is glued to the background1 and that   
you could not  walk round her4 ,she is a
 silhouette that turns but one side of  
her face  to all beholders1 a figure cut
 out of canvas1 an image with no power  
to move nor change her position4 ,i feel
 as if there were no air between  that  
arm and the background1 no space1 no    
sense of distance in your  canvas4 ,the 
perspective is perfectly correct1 the   
strength of the  coloring is accurately 
diminished with the distance2 but1 in   

spite of  these praiseworthy efforts1 ,i
 could never bring myself to believe    
that  the warm breath of life comes and 
goes in that beautiful body4 ,it seems  
to me that if ,i laid my hand on the    
firm1 rounded throat1 it would be  cold 
as marble to the touch4 ,no1 my friend1 
the blood does not flow  beneath that   
ivory skin1 the tide of life does not   
flush those delicate  fibres1 the purple
 veins that trace a network beneath the 
transparent  amber of her brow and      
breast4 ,here the pulse seems to beat1  
there it is  motionless1 life and death 
are at strife in every detail2 here you 
see  a woman1 there a statue1 there     
again a corpse4 ,your creation is       
incomplete4 ,you had only power to      
breathe a portion of your soul into     
your beloved work4 ,the fire of         
,prometheus died out again and again in 
your hands2 many a spot in your picture 
has not been touched by the  divine     
flame40    8,but how is it1 dear        
master80 ,porbus asked respectfully1    

while the young  man with difficulty    
repressed his strong desire to beat the 
critic4    8,ah60 said the old man1 8it 
is this6 ,you have halted between two   
manners4 ,you have hesitated between    
drawing and color1 between the  dogged  
attention to detail1 the stiff precision
 of the ,german masters  and the        
dazzling glow1 the joyous exuberance of 
,italian painters4 ,you  have set       
yourself to imitate ,hans ,holbein and  
,titian1 ,albrecht ,durer  and ,paul    
,veronese in a single picture4 ,a       
magnificent ambition truly1  but what   
has come of it8 ,your work has neither  
the severe charm of a dry  execution nor
 the magical illusion of ,italian       
chiaroscuro4 ,titian's  rich golden     
coloring poured into ,albrecht ,dureras 
austere outlines has  shattered them1   
like molten bronze bursting through the 
mold that is not  strong enough to hold 
it4 ,in other places the outlines have  
held firm1  imprisoning and obscuring   
the magnificent1 glowing flood of       

,venetian  color4 ,the drawing of the   
face is not perfect1 the coloring is not
  perfect2 traces of that unlucky       
indecision are to be seen everywhere4   
,unless you felt strong enough to fuse  
the two opposed manners in the  fire of 
your own genius1 you should have cast in
 your lot boldly with  the one or the   
other1 and so have obtained the unity   
which simulates one  of the conditions  
of life itself4 ,your work is only true 
in the centres2  your outlines are      
false1 they project nothing1 there is no
 hint of  anything behind them4 ,there  
is truth here10 said the old man1       
pointing  to the breast of the ,saint1  
8and again here10 he went on1 indicating
 the  rounded shoulder4 8,but there10   
once more returning to the column of    
the throat1 8everything is false4 ,let  
us go no further into detail1 you  would
 be disheartened40    ,the old man sat  
down on a stool1 and remained a while   
without speaking1  with his face buried 
in his hands4    8,yet ,i studied that  

throat from the life1 dear master10     
,porbus began2  8it happens sometimes1  
for our misfortune1 that real effects in
 nature  look improbable when           
transferred to canvas--0    8,the aim of
 art is not to copy nature1 but to      
express it4 ,you are not a  servile     
copyist1 but a poet60 cried the old man 
sharply1 cutting ,porbus  short with an 
imperious gesture4 8,otherwise a        
sculptor might make a  plaster cast of a
 living woman and save himself all      
further trouble4  ,well1 try to make a  
cast of your mistress's hand1 and set up
 the  thing before you4 ,you will see a 
monstrosity1 a dead mass1 bearing no    
resemblance to the living hand2 you     
would be compelled to have recourse  to 
the chisel of a sculptor who1 without   
making an exact copy1 would  represent  
for you its movement and its life4 ,we  
must detect the spirit1  the informing  
soul in the appearances of things and   
beings4 ,effects6  ,what are effects but
 the accidents of life1 not life itself8

 ,a hand1  since ,i have taken that     
example1 is not only a part of a body1  
it is the  expression and extension of a
 thought that must be grasped and       
rendered4  ,neither painter nor poet nor
 sculptor may separate the effect from  
the  cause1 which are inevitably        
contained the one in the other4 ,there  
begins the real struggle6 ,many a       
painter achieves success instinctively1 
unconscious of the task that is set     
before art4 ,you draw a woman1 yet  you 
do not see her6 ,not so do you succeed  
in wresting ,nature's secrets  from her6
 ,you are reproducing mechanically the  
model that you copied in  your master's 
studio4 ,you do not penetrate far enough
 into the inmost  secrets of the mystery
 of form2 you do not seek with love     
enough and  perseverance enough after   
the form that baffles and eludes you4   
,beauty  is a thing severe and          
unapproachable1 never to be won by a    
languid  lover4 ,you must lie in wait   
for her coming and take her unawares1   

press  her hard and clasp her in a tight
 embrace1 and force her to yield4 ,form 
is a ,proteus more intangible and more  
manifold than the ,proteus of the       
legend2 compelled1 only after long      
wrestling1 to stand forth manifest in   
his true aspect4 ,some of you are       
satisfied with the first shape1 or  at  
most by the second or the third that    
appears4 ,not thus wrestle the  victors1
 the unvanquished painters who never    
suffer themselves to be  deluded by all 
those treacherous shadow-shapes2 they   
persevere till  ,nature at the last     
stands bare to their gaze1 and her very 
soul is  revealed4    8,in this manner  
worked ,rafael10 said the old man1      
taking off his cap to  express his      
reverence for the ,king of ,art4 8,his  
transcendent greatness  came of the     
intimate sense that1 in him1 seems as if
 it would shatter  external form4 ,form 
in his figures 7as with us7 is a symbol1
 a means of  communicating sensations1  
ideas1 the vast imaginings of a poet4   

,every  face is a whole world4 ,the     
subject of the portrait appeared for him
  bathed in the light of a divine       
vision2 it was revealed by an inner     
voice1 the finger of ,god laid bare the 
sources of expression in the past  of a 
whole life4    8,you clothe your women  
in fair raiment of flesh1 in gracious   
veiling  of hair2 but where is the      
blood1 the source of passion and of     
calm1 the  cause of the particular      
effect8 ,why1 this brown ,egyptian of   
yours1 my  good ,porbus1 is a colorless 
creature6 ,these figures that you set   
before  us are painted bloodless        
fantoms2 and you call that painting1 you
 call  that art6    8,because you have  
made something more like a woman than a 
house1 you  think that you have set your
 fingers on the goal2 you are quite     
proud  that you need not to write currus
 venustus or pulcher homo beside  your  
figures1 as early painters were wont to 
do and you fancy that you  have done    
wonders4 ,ah6 my good friend1 there is  

still something more to  learn1 and you 
will use up a great deal of chalk and   
cover many a canvas  before you will    
learn it4 ,yes1 truly1 a woman carries  
her head in just  such a way1 so she    
holds her garments gathered into her    
hand2 her eyes  grow dreamy and soft    
with that expression of meek sweetness1 
and even  so the quivering shadow of the
 lashes hovers upon her cheeks4 ,it is  
all  there1 and yet it is not there4    
,what is lacking8 ,a nothing1 but that  
nothing is everything4    8,there you   
have the semblance of life1 but you do  
not express its  fulness and effluence1 
that indescribable something1 perhaps   
the soul  itself1 that envelopes the    
outlines of the body like a haze2 that  
flower of life1 in short1 that ,titian  
and ,rafael caught4 ,your utmost        
achievement hitherto has only brought   
you to the starting-point4 ,you  might  
now perhaps begin to do excellent work1 
but you grow weary all too  soon2 and   
the crowd admires1 and those who know   

smile4    8,oh1 ,mabuse6 oh1 my master60
 cried the strange speaker1 8thou art a 
thief6 ,thou hast carried away the      
secret of life with thee60              
8,nevertheless10 he began again1 8this  
picture of yours is worth more  than all
 the paintings of that rascal ,rubens1  
with his mountains of  ,flemish flesh   
raddled with vermilion1 his torrents of 
red hair1 his riot  of color4 ,you1 at  
least have color there1 and feeling and 
drawing--the  three essentials in art40 
,the young man roused himself from his  
deep musings4    8,why1 my good man1 the
 ,saint is sublime60 he cried4 8,there  
is a subtlety  of imagination about     
those two figures1 the ,saint ,mary and 
the ,shipman1  that can not be found    
among ,italian masters2 ,i do not know a
 single one  of them capable of         
imagining the ,shipman's hesitation40   
8,did that little malapert come with    
you80 asked ,porbus of the older man4   
8,alas6 master1 pardon my boldness10    
cried the neophyte1 and the color       

mounted to his face4 8,i am unknown--a  
dauber by instinct1 and but lately  come
 to this city--the fountain-head of all 
learning40    8,set to work10 said      
,porbus1 handing him a bit of red chalk 
and a sheet  of paper4    ,the new-comer
 quickly sketched the ,saint ,mary line 
for line4    8,aha60 exclaimed the old  
man4 8,your name80 he added4    ,the    
young man wrote 8,nicolas ,poussin0     
below the sketch4    8,not bad that for 
a beginning10 said the strange speaker1 
who had  discoursed so wildly4 8,i see  
that we can talk of art in your         
presence4  ,i do not blame you for      
admiring ,porbus's saint4 ,in the eyes  
of the world  she is a masterpiece1 and 
those alone who have been initiated into
 the  inmost mysteries of art can       
discover her shortcomings4 ,but it is   
worth  while to give you the lesson1 for
 you are able to understand it1 so ,i   
will show you how little it needs to    
complete this picture4 ,you must be  all
 eyes1 all attention1 for it may be that

 such a chance of learning  will never  
come in your way again--,porbus6 your   
palette40    ,porbus went in search of  
palette and brushes4 ,the little old man
 turned  back his sleeves with impatient
 energy1 seized the palette1 covered    
with  many hues1 that ,porbus handed to 
him1 and snatched rather than took a    
handful of brushes of various sizes from
 the hands of his acquaintance4  ,his   
pointed beard suddenly bristled--a      
menacing movement that expressed  the   
prick of a lover's fancy4 ,as he loaded 
his brush1 he muttered  between his     
teeth1 8,these paints are only fit to   
fling out of the  window1 together with 
the fellow who ground them1 their       
crudeness and  falseness are disgusting6
 ,how can one paint with this80    ,he  
dipped the tip of the brush with        
feverish eagerness in the different     
pigments1 making the circuit of the     
palette several times more quickly  than
 the organist of a cathedral sweeps the 
octaves on the keyboard of  his clavier 

for the 8,o ,filii0 at ,easter4         
,porbus and ,poussin1 on either side of 
the easel1 stood stock-still1  watching 
with intense interest4    8,look1 young 
man10 he began again1 8see how three or 
four strokes of  the brush and a thin   
glaze of blue let in the free air to    
play about the  head of the poor ,saint1
 who must have felt stifled and         
oppressed by the  close atmosphere6 ,see
 how the drapery begins to flutter2 you 
feel that  it is lifted by the breeze6  
,a moment ago it hung as heavily and    
stiffly  as if it were held out by pins4
 ,do you see how the satin sheen that ,i
  have just given to the breast rends   
the pliant1 silken softness of a  young 
girl's skin1 and how the brown-red1     
blended with burnt ochre1  brings warmth
 into the cold gray of the deep shadow  
where the blood lay  congealed instead  
of coursing through the veins8 ,young   
man1 young man1  no master could teach  
you how to do this that ,i am doing     
before your  eyes4 ,mabuse alone        

possessed the secret of giving life to  
his figures2  ,mabuse had but one       
pupil--that was ,i4 ,i have had none1   
and ,i am old4 ,you  have sufficient    
intelligence to imagine the rest from   
the glimpses that  ,i am giving you40   
,while the old man was speaking1 he gave
 a touch here and there2  sometimes two 
strokes of the brush1 sometimes a single
 one2 but every  stroke told so well1   
that the whole picture seemed           
transfigured--the  painting was flooded 
with light4 ,he worked with such        
passionate fervor  that beads of sweat  
gathered upon his bare forehead2 he     
worked so  quickly1 in brief1 impatient 
jerks1 that it seemed to young ,poussin 
as  if some familiar spirit inhabiting  
the body of this strange being took  a  
grotesque pleasure in making use of the 
man's hands against his own  will4 ,the 
unearthly glitter of his eyes1 the      
convulsive movements  that seemed like  
struggles1 gave to this fancy a         
semblance of truth  which could not but 

stir a young imagination4 ,the old man  
continued1  saying as he did so--       
8,paf6 paf6 that is how to lay it on1   
young man6--,little touches6 come  and  
bring a glow into those icy cold tones  
for me6 ,just so6 ,pon6 pon6  pon60 and 
those parts of the picture that he had  
pointed out as cold and  lifeless       
flushed with warmer hues1 a few bold    
strokes of color brought  all the tones 
of the picture into the required harmony
 with the glowing  tints of the         
,egyptian1 and the differences in       
temperament vanished4    8,look you1    
youngster1 the last touches make the    
picture4 ,porbus has  given it a hundred
 strokes for every one of mine4 ,no one 
thanks us for  what lies beneath4 ,bear 
that in mind40    ,at last the restless 
spirit stopped1 and turning to ,porbus  
and ,poussin1  who were speechless with 
admiration1 he spoke--    8,this is not 
as good as my #8,belle ,noiseuse'2 still
 one might put one's  name to such a    
thing as this4--,yes1 ,i would put my   

name to it10   he added1 rising to reach
 for a mirror1 in which he looked at the
  picture4--8,and now10 he said1 8will  
you both come and breakfast with me8  ,i
 have a smoked ham and some very fair   
wine6444 ,eh6 eh6 the times may  be bad1
 but we can still have some talk about  
art6 ,we can talk like  equals4444 ,here
 is a little fellow who has aptitude10  
he added1 laying a  hand on ,nicolas    
,poussin's shoulder4    ,in this way the
 stranger became aware of the threadbare
 condition of the  ,norman's doublet4   
,he drew a leather purse from his       
girdle1 felt in it1  found two gold     
coins1 and held them out4    8,i will   
buy your sketch10 he said4    8,take    
it10 said ,porbus1 as he saw the other  
start and flush with  embarrassment1 for
 ,poussin had the pride of poverty4     
8,pray1 take it2 he  has a couple of    
king's ransoms in his pouch60    ,the   
three came down together from the       
studio1 and1 talking of art by the  way1
 reached a picturesque wooden house hard

 by the ,pont ,saint-,michel4  ,poussin 
wondered a moment at its ornament1 at   
the knocker1 at the frames  of the      
casements1 at the scroll-work designs1  
and in the next he stood  in a vast     
low-ceiled room4 ,a table1 covered with 
tempting dishes1 stood  near the blazing
 fire1 and 7luck unhoped for7 he was in 
the company of  two great artists full  
of genial good humor4    8,do not look  
too long at that canvas1 young man10    
said ,porbus1 when he  saw that ,poussin
 was standing1 struck with wonder1      
before a painting4  8,you would fall a  
victim to despair40    ,it was the      
8,adam0 painted by ,mabuse to purchase  
his release from the  prison1 where his 
creditors had so long kept him4 ,and1 as
 a matter of  fact1 the figure stood out
 so boldly and convincingly1 that       
,nicolas  ,poussin began to understand  
the real meaning of the words poured out
  by the old artist1 who was himself    
looking at the picture with apparent    
satisfaction1 but without enthusiasm4   

8,i have done better than that60 he     
seemed to be saying to himself4         
8,there is life in it10 he said aloud2  
8in that respect my poor  master here   
surpassed himself1 but there is some    
lack of truth in the  background4 ,the  
man lives indeed2 he is rising1 and will
 come toward us2  but the atmosphere1   
the sky1 the air1 the breath of the     
breeze--you look  and feel for them1 but
 they are not there4 ,and then the man  
himself is1  after all1 only a man6 ,ah6
 but the one man in the world who came  
direct  from the hands of ,god must have
 had a something divine about him that  
is wanting here4 ,mabuse himself would  
grind his teeth and say so when he  was 
not drunk40    ,poussin looked from the 
speaker to ,porbus1 and from ,porbus to 
the  speaker1 with restless curiosity4  
,he went up to the latter to ask for    
the name of their host2 but the painter 
laid a finger on his lips  with an air  
of mystery4 ,the young man's interest   
was excited2 he kept  silence1 but hoped

 that sooner or later some word might be
 let fall that  would reveal the name of
 his entertainer4 ,it was evident that  
he was a  man of talent and very        
wealthy1 for ,porbus listened to him    
respectfully1  and the vast room was    
crowded with marvels of art4    ,a      
magnificent portrait of a woman1 hung   
against the dark oak panels of  the     
wall1 next caught ,poussin's attention4 
8,what a glorious ,giorgione60 he cried4
    8,no10 said his host1 8it is an     
early daub of mine--0    8,gramercy6 ,i 
am in the abode of the god of painting1 
it seems60 cried  ,poussin ingenuously4 
,the old man smiled as if he had long   
grown familiar with such praise4        
8,master ,frenhofer60 said ,porbus1 8do 
you think you could spare me a  little  
of your capital ,rhine wine80    8,a    
couple of pipes60 answered his host2    
8one to discharge a debt1 for  the      
pleasure of seeing your pretty sinner1  
the other as a present from a  friend40 
8,ah6 if ,i had my health10 returned    

,porbus1 8and if you would but let  me  
see your #8,belle ,noiseuse1' ,i would  
paint some great picture1 with  breadth 
in it and depth2 the figures should be  
life-size40    8,let you see my work60  
cried the painter in agitation4 8,no1   
no6 it is  not perfect yet2 something   
still remains for me to do4 ,yesterday1 
in the  dusk10 he said1 8,i thought ,i  
had reached the end4 ,her eyes seemed   
moist1  the flesh quivered1 something   
stirred the tresses of her hair4 ,she   
breathed6 ,but though ,i have succeeded 
in reproducing ,nature's roundness  and 
relief on the flat surface of the       
canvas1 this morning1 by daylight1  ,i  
found out my mistake4 ,ah6 to achieve   
that glorious result ,i have  studied   
the works of the great masters of color1
 stripping off coat  after coat of color
 from ,titian's canvas1 analyzing the   
pigments of the  king of light4 ,like   
that sovereign painter1 ,i began the    
face in a slight  tone with a supple and
 fat paste--for shadow is but an        

accident2 bear  that in mind1           
youngster6--,then ,i began afresh1 and  
by half-tones and  thin glazes of color 
less and less transparent1 ,i gradually 
deepened the  tints to the deepest black
 of the strongest shadows4 ,an ordinary 
painter  makes his shadows something    
entirely different in nature from the   
high  lights2 they are wood or brass1 or
 what you will1 anything but flesh  in  
shadow4 ,you feel that even if those    
figures were to alter their  position1  
those shadow stains would never be      
cleansed away1 those parts  of the      
picture would never glow with light4    
8,i have escaped one mistake1 into which
 the most famous painters have          
sometimes fallen2 in my canvas the      
whiteness shines through the densest    
and most persistent shadow4 ,i have not 
marked out the limits of my  figure in  
hard1 dry outlines1 and brought every   
least anatomical detail  into prominence
 7like a host of dunces1 who fancy that 
they can draw  because they can trace a 

line elaborately smooth and clean71 for 
the  human body is not contained within 
the limits of line4 ,in this the        
sculptor can approach the truth more    
nearly than we painters4 ,nature's  way 
is a complicated succession of curve    
within curve4 ,strictly  speaking1 there
 is no such thing as drawing4--,do not  
laugh1 young man2  strange as that      
speech may seem to you1 you will        
understand the truth in  it some        
day4--,a line is a method of expressing 
the effect of light upon  an object2 but
 there are no lines in ,nature1         
everything is solid4 ,we  draw by       
modeling1 that is to say1 that we       
disengage an object from  its setting2  
the distribution of the light alone     
gives to a body the  appearance by which
 we know it4 ,so ,i have not defined the
 outlines2 ,i  have suffused them with a
 haze of half-tints warm or golden1 in  
such a  sort that you can not lay your  
finger on the exact spot where          
background  and contours meet4 ,seen    

from near1 the picture looks a blur2 it 
seems  to lack definition2 but step back
 two paces1 and the whole thing becomes 
clear1 distinct1 and solid2 the body    
stands out2 the rounded form comes  into
 relief2 you feel that the air plays    
round it4 ,and yet--,i am not           
satisfied2 ,i have misgivings4 ,perhaps 
one ought not to draw a single  line2   
perhaps it would be better to attack the
 face from the centre1  taking the      
highest prominences first1 proceeding   
from them through the  whole range of   
shadows to the heaviest of all4 ,is not 
this the method  of the sun1 the divine 
painter of the world8 ,oh1 ,nature1     
,nature6 who  has surprised thee1       
fugitive8 ,but1 after all1 too much     
knowledge1 like  ignorance1 brings you  
to a negation4 ,i have doubts about my  
work40    ,there was a pause4 ,then the 
old man spoke again4 8,i have been at   
work  upon it for ten years1 young man2 
but what are ten short years in a       
struggle with ,nature8 ,do we know how  

long ,sir ,pygmalion wrought at the  one
 statue that came to life80 ,the old man
 fell into deep musings1 and  gazed     
before him with unseeing eyes1 while he 
played unheedingly with  his knife4     
8,look1 he is in conversation with his  
domon60 murmured ,porbus4    ,at the    
word1 ,nicolas ,poussin felt himself    
carried away by an  unaccountable       
accession of artist's curiosity4 ,for   
him the old man1 at  once intent and    
inert1 the seer with the unseeing eyes1 
became something  more than a man--a    
fantastic spirit living in a mysterious 
world1 and  countless vague thoughts    
awoke within his soul4 ,the effect of   
this  species of fascination upon his   
mind can no more be described in words  
than the passionate longing awakened in 
an exile's heart by the song  that      
recalls his home4 ,he thought of the    
scorn that the old man affected  to     
display for the noblest efforts of art1 
of his wealth1 his manners1  of the     
deference paid to him by ,porbus4 ,the  

mysterious picture1 the work  of        
patience on which he had wrought so long
 in secret1 was doubtless  a work of    
genius1 for the head of the ,virgin     
which young ,poussin had  admired so    
frankly was beautiful even beside       
,mabuse's 8,adam0--there  was no        
mistaking the imperial manner of one of 
the princes of art4  ,everything        
combined to set the old man beyond the  
limits of human  nature4    ,out of the 
wealth of fancies in ,nicolas ,poussin's
 brain an idea grew1  and gathered shape
 and clearness4 ,he saw in this         
supernatural being a  complete type of  
the artist nature1 a nature mocking and 
kindly1 barren  and prolific1 an erratic
 spirit intrusted with great and        
manifold powers  which she too often    
abuses1 leading sober reason1 the       
,philistine1 and  sometimes even the    
amateur forth into a stony wilderness   
where they see  nothing2 but the        
white-winged maiden herself1 wild as her
 fancies may  be1 finds epics there and 

castles and works of art4 ,for ,poussin1
 the  enthusiast1 the old man1 was      
suddenly transfigured1 and became ,art  
incarnate1 ,art with its mysteries1 its 
vehement passion and its dreams4        
8,yes1 my dear ,porbus10 ,frenhofer     
continued1 8hitherto ,i have never      
found a flawless model1 a body with     
outlines of perfect beauty1 the         
carnations--,ah6 where does she live80  
he cried1 breaking in upon  himself1    
8the undiscoverable ,venus of the older 
time1 for whom we have  sought so often1
 only to find the scattered gleams of   
her beauty here  and there8 ,oh6 to     
behold once and for one moment1 ,nature 
grown perfect  and divine1 the ,ideal at
 last1 ,i would give all that ,i        
possess4444 ,nay1  ,beauty divine1 ,i   
would go to seek thee in the dim land of
 the dead2 like  ,orpheus1 ,i would go  
down into the ,hades of ,art to bring   
back the life of  art from among the    
shadows of death40    8,we can go now10 
said ,porbus to ,poussin4 8,he neither  

hears nor sees us  any longer40    8,let
 us go to his studio10 said young       
,poussin1 wondering greatly4    8,oh6   
the old fox takes care that no one shall
 enter it4 ,his treasures  are so       
carefully guarded that it is impossible 
for us to come at them4  ,i have not    
waited for your suggestion and your     
fancy to attempt to lay  hands on this  
mystery by force40    8,so there is a   
mystery80 8,yes10 answered ,porbus4     
8,old ,frenhofer is the  only pupil     
,mabuse would take4 ,frenhofer became   
the painter's friend1  deliverer1 and   
father2 he sacrificed the greater part  
of his fortune to  enable ,mabuse to    
indulge in riotous extravagance1 and in 
return ,mabuse  bequeathed to him the   
secret of relief1 the power of giving to
 his  figures the wonderful life1 the   
flower of ,nature1 the eternal despair  
of  art1 the secret which ,ma-buse knew 
so well that one day when he had sold   
the flowered brocade suit in which he   
should have appeared at the ,entry  of  

,charles ,v1 he accompanied his master  
in a suit of paper painted to  resemble 
the brocade4 ,the peculiar richness and 
splendor of the stuff  struck the       
,emperor2 he complimented the old       
drunkard's patron on the  artist's      
appearance1 and so the trick was brought
 to light4 ,frenhofer  is a passionate  
enthusiast1 who sees above and beyond   
other painters4 ,he  has meditated      
profoundly on color1 and the absolute   
truth of line2 but  by the way of much  
research he has come to doubt the very  
existence  of the objects of his search4
 ,he says1 in moments of despondency1   
that  there is no such thing as drawing1
 and that by means of lines we can  only
 reproduce geometrical figures2 but that
 is overshooting the mark1  for by      
outline and shadow you can reproduce    
form without any color at  all1 which   
shows that our art1 like ,nature1 is    
composed of an infinite  number of      
elements4 ,drawing gives you the        
skeleton1 the anatomical  frame-' work1 

and color puts the life into it2 but    
life without the  skeleton is even more 
incomplete than a skeleton without life4
 ,but there  is something else truer    
still1 and it is this--f or painters1   
practise  and observation are           
everything2 and when theories and       
poetical ideas  begin to quarrel with   
the brushes1 the end is doubt1 as has   
happened  with our good friend1 who is  
half crack-brained enthusiast1 half     
painter4 ,a sublime painter6 but unlucky
 for him1 he was born to riches1  and so
 he has leisure to follow his fancies4  
,do not you follow his  example6 ,work6 
painters have no business to think1     
except brush in  hand40    8,we will    
find a way into his studio60 cried      
,poussin confidently4 ,he had  ceased to
 heed ,porbus's remarks4 ,the other     
smiled at the young painter's           
enthusiasm1 asked him to come to see him
 again1 and they parted4 ,nicolas       
,poussin went slowly back to the ,rue de
 la ,harpe1 and passed the  modest      

hostelry where he was lodging without   
noticing it4 ,a feeling of  uneasiness  
prompted him to hurry up the crazy      
staircase till he reached  a room at the
 top1 a quaint1 airy recess under the   
steep1 high-pitched  roof common among  
houses in old ,paris4 ,in the one dingy 
window of the  place sat a young girl1  
who sprang up at once when she heard    
some one at  the door2 it was the       
prompting of love2 she had recognized   
the painter's  touch on the latch4      
8,what is the matter with you80 she     
asked4    8,the matter is444 is444 ,oh6 
,i have felt that ,i am a painter6      
,until  to-day ,i have had doubts1 but  
now ,i believe in myself6 ,there is the 
making of a great man in me6 ,never     
mind1 ,gillette1 we shall be rich and   
happy6 ,there is gold at the tips of    
those brushes--0    ,he broke off       
suddenly4 ,the joy faded from his       
powerful and earnest face  as he        
compared his vast hopes with his slender
 resources4 ,the walls were  covered    

with sketches in chalk on sheets of     
common paper4 ,there were  but four     
canvases in the room4 ,colors were very 
costly1 and the young  painter's palette
 was almost bare4 ,yet in the midst of  
his poverty he  possessed and was       
conscious of the possession of          
inexhaustible treasures  of the heart1  
of a devouring genius equal to all the  
tasks that lay  before him4    ,he had  
been brought to ,paris by a nobleman    
among his friends1 or  perchance by the 
consciousness of his powers2 and in     
,paris he had found  a mistress1 one of 
those noble and generous souls who      
choose to suffer  by a great man's side1
 who share his struggles and strive to  
understand  his fancies1 accepting their
 lot of poverty and love as bravely and 
dauntlessly as other women will set     
themselves to bear the burden of  riches
 and make a parade of their             
insensibility4 ,the smile that stole    
over ,gillette's lips filled the garret 
with golden light1 and rivaled  the     

brightness of the sun in heaven4 ,the   
sun1 moreover1 does not always  shine in
 heaven1 whereas ,gillette was always in
 the garret1 absorbed in  her passion1  
occupied by ,poussin's happiness and    
sorrow1 consoling the  genius which     
found an outlet in love before art      
engrossed it4    8,listen1 ,gillette4   
,come here40    ,the girl obeyed        
joyously1 and sprang upon the painter's 
knee4 ,hers was  perfect grace and      
beauty1 and the loveliness of spring2   
she was adorned  with all luxuriant     
fairness of outward form1 lighted up by 
the glow of a  fair soul within4        
8,oh6 ,god10 he cried2 8,i shall never  
dare to tell her--0    8,a secret80 she 
cried2 8,i must know it60    ,poussin   
was absorbed in his dreams4    8,do tell
 it me60    8,gillette444 poor beloved  
heart64440    8,oh6 do you want         
something of me80    8,yes40    8,if you
 wish me to sit once more for you as ,i 
did the other day10 she  continued with 
playful petulance1 8,i will never       

consent to do such a  thing again1 for  
your eyes say nothing all the while4    
,you do not think  of me at all1 and yet
 you look at me--0    8,would you rather
 have me draw another woman80           
8,perhaps--if she were very ugly10 she  
said4    8,well10 said ,poussin gravely1
 8and if1 for the sake of my fame to    
come1  if to make me a great painter1   
you must sit to some one else80    8,you
 may try me10 she said2 8you know quite 
well that ,i would not40    ,poussin's  
head sank on her breast2 he seemed to be
 overpowered by some  intolerable joy or
 sorrow4    8,listen10 she cried1       
plucking at the sleeve of ,poussin's    
threadbare  doublet1 8,i told you1      
,nick1 that ,i would lay down my life   
for you2 but ,i  never promised you that
 ,i in my lifetime would lay down my    
love40    8,your love80 cried the young 
artist4    8,if ,i showed myself thus to
 another1 you would love me no longer1  
and  ,i should feel myself unworthy of  
you4 ,obedience to your fancies was a   

natural and simple thing1 was it not8   
,even against my own will1 ,i am  glad  
and even proud to do thy dear will4 ,but
 for another1 out upon it60    8,forgive
 me1 my ,gillette10 said the painter1   
falling upon his knees2  8,i would      
rather be beloved than famous4 ,you are 
fairer than success and  honors4 ,there1
 fling the pencils away1 and burn these 
sketches6 ,i have  made a mistake4 ,i   
was meant to love and not to paint4     
,perish art and all  its secrets60      
,gillette looked admiringly at him1 in  
an ecstasy of happiness6 ,she was       
triumphant2 she felt instinctively that 
art was laid aside for her sake1  and   
flung like a grain of incense at her    
feet4    8,yet he is only an old man10  
,poussin continued2 8for him you would  
be a  woman1 and nothing more4 ,you--so 
perfect60    8,i must love you indeed60 
she cried1 ready to sacrifice even      
love's  scruples to the lover who had   
given up so much for her sake2 8but ,i  
should bring about my own ruin4 ,ah6 to 

ruin myself1 to lose everything  for    
you6444 ,it is a very glorious thought6 
,ah6 but you will forget me4  ,oh ,i    
what evil thought is this that has come 
to you80    8,i love you1 and yet ,i    
thought of it10 he said1 with something 
like  remorse1 8,am ,i so base a        
wretch80    8,let us consult ,pre       
,hardouin10 she said4    8,no1 no6 ,let 
it be a secret between us40    8,very   
well2 ,i will do it4 ,but you must not  
be there10 she said4 8,stay at  the door
 with your dagger in your hand2 and if  
,i call1 rush in and kill  the painter40
    ,poussin forgot everything but art4 
,he held ,gillette tightly in his arms4 
8,he loves me no longer60 thought       
,gillette when she was alone4 ,she      
repented of her resolution already4     
,but to these misgivings there soon     
succeeded a sharper pain1 and she       
strove to banish a hideous thought that 
arose in her own heart4 ,it  seemed to  
her that her own love had grown less    
already1 with a vague  suspicion that   

the painter had fallen somewhat in her  
eyes4          ,,ii--,,catherine        
,,lescault    ,three months after       
,poussin and ,porbus met1 the latter    
went to see ,master  ,frenhofer4 ,the   
old man had fallen a victim to one of   
those profound and  spontaneous fits of 
discouragement that are caused1         
according to medical  logicians1 by     
indigestion1 flatulence1 fever1 or      
enlargement of the  spleen2 or1 if you  
take the opinion of the ,spiritualists1 
by the  imperfections of our mortal     
nature4 ,the good man had simply        
overworked  himself in putting the      
finishing touches to his mysterious     
picture4 ,he  was lounging in a huge    
carved oak chair1 covered with black    
leather1 and  did not change his        
listless attitude1 but glanced at       
,porbus like a man  who has settled down
 into low spirits4    8,well1 master10  
said ,porbus1 8was the ultramarine bad  
that you sent for  to ,bruges8 ,is the  
new white difficult to grind8 ,is the   

oil poor1 or are  the brushes           
recalcitrant80    8,alas60 cried the old
 man1 8for a moment ,i thought that my  
work was  finished1 but ,i am sure that 
,i am mistaken in certain details1 and  
,i can  not rest until ,i have cleared  
my doubts4 ,i am thinking of traveling4 
,i  am going to ,turkey1 to ,greece1 to 
,asia1 in quest of a model1 so as to    
compare my picture with the different   
living forms of ,nature4 ,perhaps10     
and a smile of contentment stole over   
his face1 8perhaps ,i have ,nature      
herself up there4 ,at times ,i am half  
afraid that a breath may waken her1  and
 that she will escape me40    ,he rose  
to his feet as if to set out at once4   
8,aha60 said ,porbus1 8,i have come just
 in time to save you the trouble  and   
expense of a journey40    8,what80 asked
 ,frenhofer in amazement4    8,young    
,poussin is loved by a woman of         
incomparable and flawless beauty4  ,but1
 dear master1 if he consents to lend her
 to you1 at the least you  ought to let 

us see your work40    ,the old man stood
 motionless and completely dazed4       
8,what60 he cried piteously at last1    
8show you my creation1 my bride8  ,rend 
the veil that has kept my happiness     
sacred8 ,it would be an infamous        
profanation4 ,for ten years ,i have     
lived with her2 she is mine1 mine       
alone2 she loves me4 ,has she not smiled
 at me1 at each stroke of the  brush    
upon the canvas8 ,she has a soul--the   
soul that ,i have given her4  ,she would
 blush if any eyes but mine should rest 
on her4 ,to exhibit her6  ,where is the 
husband1 the lover so vile as to bring  
the woman he loves  to dishonor8 ,when  
you paint a picture for the court1 you  
do not put your  whole soul into it2 to 
courtiers you sell lay figures duly     
colored4 ,my  painting is no painting1  
it is a sentiment1 a passion4 ,she was  
born in  my studio1 there she must dwell
 in maiden solitude1 and only when clad 
can she issue thence4 ,poetry and women 
only lay the last veil aside  for their 

lovers ,have we ,rafael's model1        
,ariosto's ,angelica1 ,dante's          
,beatrice8 ,nay1 only their form and    
semblance4 ,but this picture1 locked    
away above in my studio1 is an exception
 in our art4 ,it is not a canvas1  it is
 a woman--a woman with whom ,i talk4 ,i 
share her thoughts1 her  tears1 her     
laughter4 ,would you have me fling aside
 these ten years of  happiness like a   
cloak8 ,would you have me cease at once 
to be father1  lover1 and creator8 ,she 
is not a creature1 but a creation4      
8,bring your young painter here4 ,i will
 give him my treasures2 ,i will  give   
him pictures by ,correggio and          
,michelangelo and ,titian2 ,i will kiss 
his footprints in the dust2 but make him
 my rival6 ,shame on me4 ,ah6 ah6  ,i am
 a lover first1 and then a painter4     
,yes1 with my latest sigh ,i could  find
 strength to burn my #8,belle           
,noiseuse'2 but--compel her to endure   
the  gaze of a stranger1 a young man and
 a painter6--,ah6 no1 no6 ,i would  kill

 him on the morrow who should sully her 
with a glance6 ,nay1 you1 my  friend1 ,i
 would kill you with my own hands in a  
moment if you did not  kneel in         
reverence before her6 ,now1 will you    
have me submit my idol  to the careless 
eyes and senseless criticisms of fools8 
,ah6 love is a  mystery2 it can only    
live hidden in the depths of the heart4 
,you say1  even to your friend1         
#8,behold her whom ,i love1' and there  
is an end of  love40    ,the old man    
seemed to have grown young again2 there 
was light and life  in his eyes1 and a  
faint flush of red in his pale face4    
,his hands shook4  ,porbus was so amazed
 by the passionate vehemence of         
,frenhofer's words  that he knew not    
what to reply to this utterance of an   
emotion as  strange as it was profound4 
,was ,frenhofer sane or mad8 ,had he    
fallen a  victim to some freak of the   
artist's fancy8 or were these ideas of  
his  produced by the strange            
lightheadedness which comes over us     

during the  long travail of a work of   
art4 ,would it be possible to come to   
terms  with this singular passion8      
,harassed by all these doubts1 ,porbus  
spoke--8,is it not woman for woman80    
he said4 8,does not ,poussin submit his 
mistress to your gaze80    8,what is    
she80 retorted the other4 8,a mistress  
who will be false to him  sooner or     
later4 ,mine will be faithful to me     
forever40    8,well1 well10 said        
,porbus1 8let us say no more about it4  
,but you may die  before you will find  
such a flawless beauty as hers1 even in 
,asia1 and  then your picture will be   
left unfinished4    8,oh6 it is         
finished10 said ,frenhof er4 8,standing 
before it you would  think that it was a
 living woman lying on the velvet couch 
beneath the  shadow of the curtains4    
,perfumes are burning on a golden tripod
 by her  side4 ,you would be tempted to 
lay your hand upon the tassel of the    
cord  that holds back the curtains2 it  
would seem to you that you saw her      

breast rise and fall as she breathed2   
that you beheld the living  ,catherine  
,lescault1 the beautiful courtezan whom 
men called #8,la ,belle  ,noiseuse4'    
,and yet--if ,i could but be sure--0    
8,then go to ,asia10 returned ,porbus1  
noticing a certain indecision in        
,frenhofer's face4 ,and with that       
,porbus made a few steps toward the     
door4  ,by that time ,gillette and      
,nicolas ,poussin had reached           
,frenhofer's  house4 ,the girl drew away
 her arm from her lover's as she stood  
on the  threshold1 and shrank back as if
 some presentiment flashed through her  
mind4    8,oh6 what have ,i come to do  
here80 she asked of her lover in low    
vibrating tones1 with her eyes fixed on 
his4    8,gillette1 ,i have left you to 
decide2 ,i am ready to obey you in      
everything4 ,you are my conscience and  
my glory4 ,go home again2 ,i shall  be  
happier1 perhaps1 if you do not--0      
8,am ,i my own when you speak to me like
 that8 ,no1 no2 ,i am a  child4--,come10

 she added1 seemingly with a violent    
effort2 8if our love  dies1 if ,i plant 
a long regret in my heart1 your fame    
will be the reward  of my obedience to  
your wishes1 will it not8 ,let us go in4
 ,i shall  still live on as a memory on 
your palette2 that shall be life for me 
afterward40    ,the door opened1 and the
 two lovers encountered ,porbus1 who was
  surprised by the beauty of ,gillette1 
whose eyes were full of tears4 ,he      
hurried her1 trembling from head to     
foot1 into the presence of the old      
painter4    8,here60 he cried1 8is she  
not worth all the masterpieces in the   
world60    ,frenhofer trembled4 ,there  
stood ,gillette in the artless and      
childlike  attitude of some timid and   
innocent ,georgian1 carried off by      
brigands1  and confronted with a slave  
merchant4 ,a shamefaced red flushed her 
face1  her eyes drooped1 her hands hung 
by her side1 her strength seemed to     
have failed her1 her tears protested    
against this outrage4 ,poussin  cursed  

himself in despair that he should have  
brought his fair treasure  from its     
hiding-place4 ,the lover overcame the   
artist1 and countless  doubts assailed  
,poussin's heart when he saw youth dawn 
in the old man's  eyes1 as1 like a      
painter1 he discerned every line of the 
form hidden  beneath the young girl's   
vesture4 ,then the lover's savage       
jealousy  awoke4    8,gillette60 he     
cried1 8let us go40    ,the girl turned 
joyously at the cry and the tone in     
which it was  uttered1 raised her eyes  
to his1 looked at him1 and fled to his  
arms4    8,ah6 then you love me10 she   
cried2 8you love me60 and she burst into
  tears4    ,she had spirit enough to   
suffer in silence1 but she had no       
strength to  hide her joy4    8,oh6     
leave her with me for one moment10 said 
the old painter1 8and you  shall compare
 her with my ,catherine444 yes--,i      
consent40    ,frenhofer's words likewise
 came from him like a lover's cry4 ,his 
vanity  seemed to be engaged for his    

semblance of womanhood2 he anticipated  
the  triumph of the beauty of his own   
creation over the beauty of the living  
girl4    8,do not give him time to      
change his mind60 cried ,porbus1        
striking  ,poussin on the shoulder4     
8,the flower of love soon fades1 but the
 flower  of art is immortal40    8,then 
am ,i only a woman now for him80 said   
,gillette4 ,she was watching  ,poussin  
and ,porbus closely4    ,she raised her 
head proudly2 she glanced at ,frenhofer1
 and her eyes  flashed2 then as she saw 
how her lover had fallen again to gazing
 at the  portrait which he had taken at 
first for a ,giorgione--    8,ah60 she  
cried2 8let us go up to the studio4 ,he 
never gave me such a  look40    ,the    
sound of her voice recalled ,poussin    
from his dreams4    8,old man10 he said1
 8do you see this blade8 ,i will plunge 
it into your  heart at the first cry    
from this young girl2 ,i will set fire  
to your  house1 and no one shall leave  
it alive4 ,do you understand80          

,nicolas ,poussin scowled2 every word   
was a menace4 ,gillette took comfort    
from the young painter's bearing1 and   
yet more from that gesture1 and  almost 
forgave him for sacrificing her to his  
art and his glorious  future4    ,porbus
 and ,poussin stood at the door of the  
studio and looked at each  other in     
silence4 ,at first the painter of the   
,saint ,mary of ,egypt  hazarded some   
exclamations3 8,ah6 she has taken off   
her clothes2 he told  her to come into  
the light--he is comparing the two60 but
 the sight of  the deep distress in     
,poussin's face suddenly silenced him2  
and though  old painters no longer feel 
these scruples1 so petty in the presence
 of  art1 he admired them because they  
were so natural and gracious in the     
lover4 ,the young man kept his hand on  
the hilt of his dagger1 and his  ear was
 almost glued to the door4 ,the two men 
standing in the shadow  might have been 
conspirators waiting for the hour when  
they might strike  down a tyrant4       

8,come in1 come in10 cried the old man4 
,he was radiant with delight4 8,my  work
 is perfect4 ,i can show her now with   
pride4 ,never shall painter1  brushes1  
colors1 light1 and canvas produce a     
rival for #8,catherine  ,lescault1' the 
beautiful courtezan60    ,porbus and    
,poussin1 burning with eager curiosity1 
hurried into a vast  studio4 ,everything
 was in disorder and covered with dust1 
but they saw a  few pictures here and   
there upon the wall4 ,they stopped first
 of all in  admiration before the       
life-size figure of a woman partially   
draped4    8,oh6 never mind that10 said 
,frenhofer2 8that is a rough daub that  
,i  made1 a study1 a pose1 it is        
nothing4 ,these are my failures10 he    
went  on1 indicating the enchanting     
compositions upon the walls of the      
studio4    ,this scorn for such works of
 art struck ,porbus and ,poussin dumb   
with  amazement4 ,they looked round for 
the picture of which he had spoken1 and 
could not discover it4    8,look here60 

said the old man4 ,his hair was         
disordered1 his face aglow  with a more 
than human exaltation1 his eyes         
glittered1 he breathed hard  like a     
young lover frenzied by love4    8,aha60
 he cried1 8you did not expect to see   
such perfection6 ,you are  looking for a
 picture1 and you see a woman before    
you4 ,there is such  depth in that      
canvas1 the atmosphere is so true that  
you can not  distinguish it from the air
 that surrounds us4 ,where is art8 ,art 
has  vanished1 it is invisible6 ,it is  
the form of a living girl that you see  
before you4 ,have ,i not caught the very
 hues of life1 the spirit of the  living
 line that defines the figure8 ,is there
 not the effect produced  there like    
that which all natural objects present  
in the atmosphere  about them1 or fishes
 in the water8 ,do you see how the      
figure stands out  against the          
background8 ,does it not seem to you    
that you pass your hand  along the back8
 ,but then for seven years ,i studied   

and watched how the  daylight blends    
with the objects on which it falls4 ,and
 the hair1 the  light pours over it like
 a flood1 does it not8444 ,ah6 she      
breathed1 ,i am  sure that she breathed6
 ,her breast--ah1 see6 ,who would not   
fall on his  knees before her8 ,her     
pulses throb4 ,she will rise to her     
feet4 ,wait60    8,do you see anything80
 ,poussin asked of ,porbus4    8,no444  
do you80    8,i see nothing40    ,the   
two painters left the old man to his    
ecstasy1 and tried to ascertain  whether
 the light that fell full upon the      
canvas had in some way  neutralized all 
the effect for them4 ,they moved to the 
right and left  of the picture2 they    
came in front1 bending down and standing
 upright by  turns4    8,yes1 yes1 it is
 really canvas10 said ,frenhofer1 who   
mistook the nature  of this minute      
investigation4    8,look6 the canvas is 
on a stretcher1 here is the easel2      
indeed1 here are  my colors1 my         
brushes10 and he took up a brush and    

held it out to them1  all unsuspicious  
of their thought4    8,the old          
lansquenet is laughing at us10 said     
,poussin1 coming once  more toward the  
supposed picture4 8,i can see nothing   
there but confused  masses of color and 
a multitude of fantastical lines that go
 to make a  dead wall of paint40    8,we
 are mistaken1 look60 said ,porbus4     
,in a corner of the canvas1 as they came
 nearer1 they distinguished a  bare foot
 emerging from the chaos of color1      
half-tints and vague shadows  that made 
up a dim1 formless fog4 ,its living     
delicate beauty held them  spellbound4  
,this fragment that had escaped an      
incomprehensible1 slow1  and gradual    
destruction seemed to them like the     
,parian marble torso of  some ,venus    
emerging from the ashes of a ruined     
town4    8,there is a woman beneath10   
exclaimed ,porbus1 calling ,poussin's   
attention to the coats of paint with    
which the old artist had overlaid  and  
concealed his work in the quest of      

perfection4    ,both artists turned     
involuntarily to ,frenhofer4 ,they began
 to have some  understanding1 vague     
though it was1 of the ecstasy in which  
he lived4    8,he believes it in all    
good faith10 said ,porbus4    8,yes1 my 
friend10 said the old man1 rousing      
himself from his dreams1 8it  needs     
faith1 faith in art1 and you must live  
for long with your work to  produce such
 a creation4 ,what toil some of those   
shadows have cost me4  ,look6 there is a
 faint shadow there upon the cheek      
beneath the eyes--if  you saw that on a 
human face1 it would seem to you that   
you could never  render it with paint4  
,do you think that that effect has not  
cost unheard  of toil8    8,but not only
 so1 dear ,porbus4 ,look closely at my  
work1 and you will  understand more     
clearly what ,i was saying as to methods
 of modeling and  outline4 ,look at the 
high lights on the bosom1 and see how by
 touch on  touch1 thickly laid on1 ,i   
have raised the surface so that it      

catches  the light itself and blends it 
with the lustrous whiteness of the high 
lights1 and how by an opposite process1 
by flattening the surface of  the paint1
 and leaving no trace of the passage of 
the brush1 ,i have  succeeded in        
softening the contours of my figures and
 enveloping them  in half-tints until   
the very idea of drawing1 of the means  
by which the  effect is produced1 fades 
away1 and the picture has the roundness 
and relief of nature4 ,come closer4 ,you
 will see the manner of working  better2
 at a little distance it can not be     
seen4 ,there ,i ,just there1 it  is1 ,i 
think1 very plainly to be seen10 and    
with the tip of his brush he  pointed   
out a patch of transparent color to the 
two painters4    ,porbus1 laying a hand 
on the old artist's shoulder1 turned to 
,poussin  with a 8,do you know that in  
him we see a very great painter80       
8,he is even more of a poet than a      
painter10 ,poussin answered gravely4    
8,there10 ,porbus continued1 as he      

touched the canvas1 8,use the utmost    
limit of our art on earth40    8,beyond 
that point it loses itself in the       
skies10 said ,poussin4    8,what joys   
lie there on this piece of canvas60     
exclaimed ,porbus4    ,the old man1 deep
 in his own musings1 smiled at the woman
 he alone  beheld1 and did not hear4    
8,but sooner or later he will find out  
that there is nothing there60   cried   
,poussin4    8,nothing on my canvas60   
said ,frenhofer1 looking in turn at     
either  painter and at his picture4     
8,what have you done80 muttered ,porbus1
 turning to ,poussin4    ,the old man   
clutched the young painter's arm and    
said1 8,do you see  nothing8 clodpatel  
,huguenot6 varlet6 cullion6 ,what       
brought you here into  my studio8--,my  
good ,porbus10 he went on1 as he turned 
to the painter1  8are you also making a 
fool of me8 ,answer6 ,i am your friend4 
,tell me1  have ,i ruined my picture    
after all80    ,porbus hesitated and    
said nothing1 but there was such        

intolerable  anxiety in the old man's   
white face that he pointed to the easel4
    8,look60 he said4    ,frenhofer     
looked for a moment at his picture1 and 
staggered back4    8,nothing6 nothing6  
,after ten years of work4440 ,he sat    
down and wept4    8,so ,i am a dotard1 a
 madman1 ,i have neither talent nor     
power6 ,i am only  a rich man1 who works
 for his own pleasure1 and makes no     
progress1 ,i  have done nothing after   
all60    ,he looked through his tears at
 his picture4 ,suddenly he rose and     
stood  proudly before the two painters4 
8,by the body and blood of ,christ10 he 
cried with flashing eyes1 8you are      
jealous6 ,you would have me think that  
my picture is a failure because  you    
want to steal her from me6 ,ah6 ,i see  
her1 ,i see her10 he cried 8she  is     
marvelously beautiful4440    ,at that   
moment ,poussin heard the sound of      
weeping2 ,gillette was  crouching       
forgotten in a corner4 ,all at once the 
painter once more  became the lover4    

8,what is it1 my angel80 he asked her4  
8,kill me60 she sobbed4 8,i must be a   
vile thing if ,i love you still1 for  ,i
 despise you4444 ,i admire you1 and ,i  
hate you6 ,i love you1 and ,i feel  that
 ,i hate you even now60    ,while       
,gillette's words sounded in ,poussin's 
ears1 ,frenhof er drew a  green serge   
covering over his 8,catherine0 with the 
sober deliberation  of a jeweler who    
locks his drawers when he suspects his  
visitors to be  expert thieves4 ,he gave
 the two painters a profoundly astute   
glance that  expressed to the full his  
suspicions1 and his contempt for them1  
saw  them out of his studio with        
impetuous haste and in silence1 until   
from  the threshold of his house he bade
 them 8,good-by1 my young friends60     
,that farewell struck a chill of dread  
into the two painters4 ,porbus1 in      
anxiety1 went again on the morrow to see
 ,frenhofer1 and learned that he  had   
died in the night after burning his     
canvases4    ,paris1 ,february1 #ahcb4