“Immediately—­to-day—­this very hour, if possible,” said the landlord.  “Mr. Faulkner, the gentleman I am speaking of, was to have sailed yesterday for the Brazils from this place; but the wind shifted last night to the wrong quarter, and he came ashore again this morning.  He may of course be detained here for some time; but he may also be called on board ship at half an hour’s notice, if the wind shifts back again in the right direction.  This uncertainty makes it a matter of importance that the likeness should be begun immediately.  Undertake it if you possibly can, for Mr. Faulkner’s a liberal gentleman, who is sure to give you your own terms.”

I reflected for a minute or two.  The portrait was only wanted in chalk, and would not take long; besides, I might finish it in the evening, if my other engagements pressed hard upon me in the daytime.  Why not leave my luggage at the picture-dealer’s, put off looking for lodgings till night, and secure the new commission boldly by going back at once with the landlord to the hotel?  I decided on following this course almost as soon as the idea occurred to me—­put my chalks in my pocket, and a sheet of drawing paper in the first of my portfolios that came to hand—­and so presented myself before Mr. Faulkner, ready to take his likeness, literally at five minutes’ notice.

I found him a very pleasant, intelligent man, young and handsome.  He had been a great traveler; had visited all the wonders of the East; and was now about to explore the wilds of the vast South American Continent.  Thus much he told me good-humoredly and unconstrainedly while I was preparing my drawing materials.

As soon as I had put him in the right light and position, and had seated myself opposite to him, he changed the subject of conversation, and asked me, a little confusedly as I thought, if it was not a customary practice among portrait-painters to gloss over the faults in their sitters’ faces, and to make as much as possible of any good points which their features might possess.

“Certainly,” I answered.  “You have described the whole art and mystery of successful portrait-painting in a few words.”

“May I beg, then,” said he, “that you will depart from the usual practice in my case, and draw me with all my defects, exactly as I am?  The fact is,” he went on, after a moment’s pause, “the likeness you are now preparing to take is intended for my mother.  My roving disposition makes me a great anxiety to her, and she parted from me this last time very sadly and unwillingly.  I don’t know how the idea came into my head, but it struck me this morning that I could not better employ the time, while I was delayed here on shore, than by getting my likeness done to send to her as a keepsake.  She has no portrait of me since I was a child, and she is sure to value a drawing of me more than anything else I could send to her.  I only trouble you with this explanation to prove that I am really sincere in my wish to be drawn unflatteringly, exactly as I am.”