In the Days of My Youth: A Novel

by Amelia B. Edwards

Meanwhile Monsieur and Madame Tapotte were fidgeting upon their chairs in respectful silence. Every now and then they exchanged glances of wonder and admiration. They were evidently dying to compare my august features with my portrait, but dared not take the liberty of rising. At length the lady's curiosity could hold out no longer.

"Ah, mon Dieu!" she said; "but it must be very fatiguing to sit so long in the same position. And to paint.... Oiel! what practice! what perseverance! what patience! Avec permission, M'sieur..."

And with this she sidled up to Müller's elbow, leaving Monsieur Tapotte thunderstruck at her audacity.

Then for a moment she stood silent; but during that moment the eager, apologetic smile vanished suddenly out of her face, and was succeeded by an expression of blank disappointment.

"Tiens!" she said bluntly. "I don't see one bit of likeness."

I turned hot from head to foot, but Müller's serene effrontery was equal to the occasion.

"I dare say not, Madame," he replied, coolly. "I dare say not. This portrait is not intended to be like."

Madame Tapotte's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously.

"Comment!" she exclaimed.

"I should be extremely sorry," continued Müller, loftily, "and his lordship would be extremely sorry, if there were too much resemblance."