learnt much at the studio in the Rue du Four, for the master only paid a running visit to the place some three times a week.  A set of ferocious brutes, were those comrades of his, who had made his life jolly hard in the beginning, but who, at least, had taught him how to prepare a surface, outline, and wash in a plan.  And how often had he had to content himself with a cup of chocolate and a roll for dejeuner in order to pay the necessary five-and-twenty francs to the superintendent!  And the sheets of paper he had laboriously smudged, and the hours he had spent in poring over books before he had dared to present himself at the School!  And he had narrowly escaped being plucked in spite of all his assiduous endeavours.  He lacked imagination, and the drawings he submitted, a caryatide and a summer dining-room, both extremely mediocre performances, had classed him at the bottom of the list.  Fortunately, he had made up for this in his oral examination with his logarithms, geometry, and history of architecture, for he was very strong in the scientific parts.  Now that he was attending the School as a second-class student, he had to toil and moil in order to secure a first-class diploma.  It was a dog’s life, there was no end to it, said he.

He stretched his legs apart, high upon the cushions, and smoked vigorously and regularly.

’What with their courses of perspective, of descriptive geometry, of stereotomy, of building, and of the history of art—­ah! upon my word, they do make one blacken paper with notes.  And every month there is a competitive examination in architecture, sometimes a simple sketch, at others a complete design.  There’s no time for pleasure if a fellow wishes to pass his examinations and secure the necessary honourable mentions, especially if, besides all that, he has to find time to earn his bread.  As for myself, it’s almost killing me.’

One of the cushions having slipped upon the floor, he fished it up with his feet.  ’All the same, I’m lucky.  There are so many of us scouring the town every day without getting the smallest job.  The day before yesterday I discovered an architect who works for a large contractor.  You can have no idea of such an ignoramus of an architect —­a downright numskull, incapable even of tracing a plan.  He gives me twenty-five sous an hour, and I set his houses straight for him.  It came just in time, too, for my mother sent me word that she was quite cleared out.  Poor mother, what a lot of money I have to refund her!’

As Dubuche was evidently talking to himself, chewing the cud of his everyday thoughts—­his constant thoughts of making a rapid fortune —­Sandoz did not even trouble to listen to him.  He had opened the little window, and seated himself on a level with the roof, for he felt oppressed by the heat in the studio.  But all at once he interrupted the architect.

’I say, are you coming to dinner on Thursday?  All the other fellows will be there—­Fagerolles, Mahoudeau, Jory, Gagniere.’