“Hey!” cried Joseph, “there’s a fine woman, and a rare one! She is made, as they say, to paint. What flesh-tints! Oh, the lovely tones! what surface! what curves! Ah, those shoulders! She’s a magnificent caryatide. What a model she would have been for one of Titians’ Venuses!”
Adolphine and Madame Hochon thought he was talking Greek; but Agathe signed to them behind his back, as if to say that she was accustomed to such jargon.
“So you think a creature who is depriving you of your property handsome?” said Madame Hochon.
“That doesn’t prevent her from being a splendid model!—just plump enough not to spoil the hips and the general contour—”
“My son, you are not in your studio,” said Agathe. “Adolphine is here.”
“Ah, true! I did wrong. But you must remember that ever since leaving Paris I have seen nothing but ugly women—”
“My dear godmother,” said Agathe hastily, “how shall I be able to meet my brother, if that creature is always with him?”
“Bah!” said Joseph. “I’ll go and see him myself. I don’t think him such an idiot, now I find he has the sense to rejoice his eyes with a Titian’s Venus.”
“If he were not an idiot,” said Monsieur Hochon, who had come in, “he would have married long ago and had children; and then you would have no chance at the property. It is an ill wind that blows no good.”
“Your son’s idea is very good,” said Madame Hochon; “he ought to pay the first visit. He can make his uncle understand that if you call there he must be alone.”