’"Look here, I’ll make you a proposal; I’ll sell it you for five thousand francs, and I’ll sign an agreement to take it back in a twelvemonth at six thousand, if you no longer care for it.”

Of course the amateur is tempted.  What does he risk after all?  In reality it’s a good speculation, and so he buys.  After that Naudet loses no time, but disposes in a similar manner of nine or ten paintings by the same man during the course of the year.  Vanity gets mingled with the hope of gain, the prices go up, the pictures get regularly quoted, so that when Naudet returns to see his amateur, the latter, instead of returning the picture, buys another one for eight thousand francs.  And the prices continue to go up, and painting degenerates into something shady, a kind of gold mine situated on the heights of Montmartre, promoted by a number of bankers, and around which there is a constant battle of bank-notes.’

Claude was growing indignant, but Jory thought it all very clever, when there came a knock at the door.  Bongrand, who went to open it, uttered a cry of surprise.

‘Naudet, as I live!  We were just talking about you.’

Naudet, very correctly dressed, without a speck of mud on him, despite the horrible weather, bowed and came in with the reverential politeness of a man of society entering a church.

’Very pleased—­feel flattered, indeed, dear master.  And you only spoke well of me, I’m sure of it.’

‘Not at all, Naudet, not at all,’ said Bongrand, in a quiet tone.  ’We were saying that your manner of trading was giving us a nice generation of artists—­tricksters crossed with dishonest business men.’

Naudet smiled, without losing his composure.

’The remark is harsh, but so charming!  Never mind, never mind, dear master, nothing that you say offends me.’

And, dropping into ecstasy before the picture of the two little women at needlework: 

’Ah!  Good heavens, I didn’t know this, it’s a little marvel!  Ah! that light, that broad substantial treatment!  One has to go back to Rembrandt for anything like it; yes, to Rembrandt!  Look here, I only came in to pay my respects, but I thank my lucky star for having brought me here.  Let us do a little bit of business.  Let me have this gem.  Anything you like to ask for it—­I’ll cover it with gold.’

One could see Bongrand’s back shake, as if his irritation were increasing at each sentence.  He curtly interrupted the dealer.

‘Too late; it’s sold.’

’Sold, you say.  And you cannot annul your bargain?  Tell me, at any rate, to whom it’s sold?  I’ll do everything, I’ll give anything.  Ah!  What a horrible blow!  Sold, are you quite sure of it?  Suppose you were offered double the sum?’

‘It’s sold, Naudet.  That’s enough, isn’t it?’

However, the dealer went on lamenting.  He remained for a few minutes longer, going into raptures before other sketches, while making the tour of the studio with the keen glances of a speculator in search of luck.  When he realised that his time was badly chosen, and that he would be able to take nothing away with him, he went off, bowing with an air of gratitude, and repeating remarks of admiration as far as the landing.