How long he had been standing thus he could not have told, when he heard a deep voice beside him say, "C'est rudement fort, tu sais. Sapristi! Shall you exhibit it?"
"I have not made up my mind," he replied, absently, and then he was vexed with himself for answering her.
"She is pretty, there's no denying it," Seraphine confessed. "I am really sorry to have interfered with your amusement, but nothing could have come of it. If I am not mistaken, you had gone as far as was possible. She is one of those who give nothing for nothing, and who never invest their capital except in good securities. I am sorry I cannot resign these securities to her; je suis bon garçon, moi, but, mon Dieu, lorsqu'il y a un homme dans la question--sapristi, chaque femme pour elle!"
Here Lucrezia opened the door, and announced that lunch was served in the garden. Lozoncyi had firmly resolved never again to sit down to a meal with this woman. But, before he could say so, she began, "It would be well if you could give them something to talk of again in Paris. When did you leave in the autumn? In October? You have no idea what a relief your departure was to the artists there. You ought to see the crazy carnival of colour held in this year's Salon! Bouchard exhibited a nymph with a faun, quite in your style, only yours is flesh and his is putty,--a poor thing; but the critics exalted it, and gave it a médaille d'honneur. You had begun to make the artists very uncomfortable: they are praising up mere daubers, to belittle you, doing what they can to knock away the floor from under you. But you need only show yourself to recover your ground. Becard told me lately that he had got hold of quite a new way of looking at things: his picture in the Salon----"
Talking thus, she had gone slowly towards the door; now she was outside. Unconsciously he had followed her.
"What has Becard in the Salon?"
"A woman on a balcony, after dinner, between two different lights,--on one side candle-light, and on the other moonlight; half of her is sulphur-yellow, the other half sea-green; c'est d'un dróle!"
"I saw the sketch for that monstrosity in his atelier," cried Lozoncyi, excited. "Did they accept it?"
She had taken her seat at the tempting table, upon which smoked a golden omelette; she did not answer instantly.
"Did they accept it?" Lozoncyi repeated.