There was an awkward silence. Finally Mrs. Bingle spoke.
"Is your husband a descendant of the painter?"
Madame Rousseau looked surprised.
"He IS the painter, Madame."
"The—impossible! I refer to the great Rousseau of the 1880 school."
"Oh, I see. No, no—he is not that one. Jean was not yet born. Mon dieu, was there another Rousseau?"
"There was," said Mrs. Bingle tartly. "Jean is the painter of to-day. He is great, he is splendid, he is magnificent. But, la la! he is so poor!"
"That seems to establish him all right," said Mr. Bingle.
Rouquin and Jean reappeared. Both were smiling cheerfully. Jean affected a somewhat degage manner and a perceptible swagger.
"Very well, M'sieur," he said. "I'll swear to it."