“It was the name of my friend, Monsieur.”
“What! Christian and surname the same?”
“Precisely one, Monsieur. They were beaux-frères, no more. With such it may be.”
“Indubitably. And the lady’s name?”
“I could show you sooner than pronounce it. It was written by Jean under the portrait.”
“But the portrait is lost!”
“Nevertheless, it is not altogether forgotten. Before it was destroyed I had borrowed a camera from a friend and achieved a reproduction of it. Alas, Monsieur! but a cold shadow of the original—a sadness, a reflection, but, such as it is, a record I would not willingly let perish.”
The Baron’s brow was smoother again; his eyes had recovered their good humour.
“But this is interesting, my friend,” he said. “Might I be permitted to see it?”
“Who sooner!” cried the designer. “Monsieur has only to command.”