“Bertrand, you understand nothing about art.”
“Perhaps not, but I know enough about it to calculate.”
“I want to paint one of these charming heads that have caught my eye; I want to take for a model one of the piquant faces that I notice among the girls of this region.”
“In that case you will do like Monsieur Raphael, you will fall in love with your model.”
“So much the better, if it results in my producing a chef-d’œuvre.”
“I’m afraid that it will result in your producing something else.”
“Have you heard them sing, Bertrand?”
“Who, monsieur?”
“The young girls in the suburbs, the villagers, the simple working-girls; they all sing with such taste and harmony! I hear delightful concerts every evening when I am walking. We are in the land of music, my friend.”
“I should prefer to be in the land of gold mines.”