One day when the latter had thrown aside, in a passion, a book which wearied him, José picked it up, and, turning it round, looked at it with a sigh.
"You are very fortunate," said Francisco, "in not knowing how to read or write, for you are not forced to learn lessons."
"Ah!" replied José, "that is my greatest grief: it is you who are fortunate in having the opportunity of learning. Oh, if you would but teach me to draw!"
"Yes, yes!" cried Francisco, enchanted at the idea: "I will be your master; but take care if you do not do well—upon the knuckles, my lad!"
José smiled at this threat, and M. Enguehard, who entered at the moment, having approved the project, it was decided that Francisco should give José a lesson every Sunday, and of an evening during the week whenever José could obtain permission to go out; but Francisco thought no more about rapping knuckles. José comprehended so readily and advanced so rapidly, that, in order to maintain the proper distance between master and pupil, his friend was obliged to set seriously to work, and this little experiment led him to make a few salutary reflections. M. Enguehard, struck by José's astonishing aptitude, neglected no opportunity of maintaining an emulation so advantageous to both the boys. He often talked to them about the celebrated masters of the old school, and related to them portions of their history. "Almost all of them," he said, "displayed their genius from childhood. Lanfranc, one of the most distinguished pupils of the Caracci, being in the service of Count Scotti, covered all the walls with charcoal drawings, his paper being insufficient to contain the fertility of his imagination. Philippe de Champagne, a native of Brussels, but classed amongst the painters of the French school, and who died President of the Academy, used, when about eight or nine years of age, to copy every picture and engraving that came in his way; and Claude Gelée, called Lorraine, a real phenomenon, such as the history of the arts can offer but few examples of, could learn nothing while at school; his parents therefore apprenticed him to a confectioner, with whom he succeeded still worse. Not knowing what to do, he went to Rome, and, unable to find employment, he entered by chance the service of Augustin Tasso to grind his colours and clean his palette. This master, in the hope of obtaining some advantage from his talents, taught him some of the rules of perspective; and Lorraine, devoting himself entirely to painting, passed whole days in the fields sketching and painting, and became the celebrated and almost unique landscape painter, whose works we still daily admire in our Museum."
José had listened to this recital with an attention which scarcely permitted him to breathe. When M. Enguehard had finished speaking, a silence of a few moments ensued, which José at length interrupted by rising suddenly and crying out with all his might, "Why not? why not?"... He then blushed when he beheld Francisco and M. Enguehard laughing heartily. M. Enguehard sent them to play, and, reflecting upon the words which had escaped from José, he felt tempted to direct him into a career to which everything seemed to call him; but the kind-hearted engraver was poor; to charge himself with José was impossible; and then, was he not wrong in diverting the child's mind from the ideas that were suitable to his present position? Again he hesitated. "Good God! what a pity!" he repeated; "but if I should render him unhappy without being able to assist him!" And from that day M. Enguehard related no more stories, nor gave himself any further anxiety about the lessons which Francisco continued to give to José. But all precautions were now useless; José was born a painter; Claude Lorraine incessantly recurred to his mind, and for want of fields, which he was denied the privilege of beholding, he sketched horses and figures in every corner, and sought subjects for composition in the historical anecdotes which Francisco related to him. Francisco, however, could only teach him the elements and mechanical details of art, things which José's genius rendered almost useless to him. Drawing even was not enough; he burned with a desire to paint, and found a secret pleasure in touching palettes and colours. Examining with attention the occupations of the various painters on whom he waited with parcels, his imagination became excited, and when alone in his garret, he grieved at being only able to work with black and white. He took good care, however, to keep from Madame Barbe the knowledge of his favourite amusement. It was at the expense of his sleep that he exercised his talents; and his friend Gabri, his only confidant, did not feel tempted to betray his secret.
But a circumstance occurred, which all his prudence could not have foreseen, and which, by enlightening Madame Barbe, cost poor José many tears.
We have already spoken of Barbe's kindness in giving room in his house, not only to those pictures, whether good or bad, which their authors had no convenience for keeping; but also to the colour boxes of the young men employed in copying in the Museum; as well as to the studies which the pupils were very glad to bring under the notice of the crowd of artists, who were continually congregated in the shop of the honest colour vender. Before being admitted to compete for the great prize for painting which annually sends to Rome, and maintains there, at the expense of the government, the person who has the good fortune to obtain it, the students have a first trial with a full-length figure, and afterwards with painted sketches; and the six or eight most successful competitors then take their places, and commence the pictures for which the prize is to be awarded. It may easily be conceived how great is the importance attached to these competitions by those young and poor students, who behold in them the termination of their elementary course, and the possibility of pursuing their studies on a more extended scale. One of the most promising pupils of that time had just obtained the prize for the figure. As Barbe had assisted him in various ways, he was anxious to make him a participator in his joy, and place in his hands his triumphant work. He arrived, therefore, followed by a dozen of his companions and rivals, who, the first moment of disappointment over, usually participate cordially in the delight of the victor, especially when they happen to study under the same master. José was a witness to the transports of these young men, and heard the praises lavished by the spectators on the fortunate student. Agitated by a thousand varied emotions, jealous, but with that noble and rare jealousy which made Cæsar weep at the feet of Alexander's statue, he would doubtless in his excitement have drawn upon himself a severe reprimand from Madame Barbe, had not Gabri whom nothing could divert from his silent watchfulness, led him away, in spite of himself.
"Ah!" said José, with emotion, "Do you see that young man? He is only fifteen.... Claude Lorraine was a confectioner.... And I, what am I?... I feel that I, too, have something in me!..."