"Sixty, Madame, if we put in the hands and the jewelry," said Müller, blandly.
"Eh bien!--sixty. But for these other things.... bah! ils sont fierement chers."
"Pardon, madame! The elegancies and superfluities of life are, by a just rule of political economy, expensive. It is right that they should be so; as it is right that the necessaries of life should be within the reach of the poorest. Bread, for instance, is strictly necessary, and should be cheap. A great-grandfather, on the contrary, is an elegant superfluity, and may be put up at a high figure."
"There is some truth in that," murmured Monsieur Tapotte.
"Besides, in the present instance, one also pays for antiquity."
"C'est juste--C'est juste."
"At the same time," continued Müller, "if Monsieur Tapotte were to honor me with a commission for, say, half a dozen family portraits, I would endeavor to put them in at forty francs apiece--including, at that very low price, a Revolutionary Deputy, a beauty of the Louis Quinze period, and a Marshal of France."
"Tiens! that's a fair offer enough," said madame. "What say you, mon ami?"
But Monsieur Tapotte, being a cautious man, would say nothing hastily. He coughed, looked doubtful, declined to commit himself to an opinion, and presently drew off into a corner for the purpose of holding a whispered consultation with his wife.
Meanwhile Müller laid aside his brushes and palette, informed me with a profound bow that my lordship had honored him by sitting as long as was strictly necessary, and requested my opinion upon the progress of the work.