She took, as it were, a detailed note of what was lacking, and next day Paul saw delivered at his rooms a superb selection of fanciful Japanese silks.
They were accompanied by a note in these words only:
"The Princess Olsdorf to her painter in ordinary."
For a moment or two the young painter thought of refusing this present, but he was afraid of rebuffing Lise too cruelly. As it was early and he did not expect her before the afternoon, he sent for a neighboring upholsterer and set to work with him.
In less than an hour the studio was transformed. The walls, distempered in a dull gray, were hidden under brilliant hangings, artistically draped; a thick carpet covered and made more level the rough wooden floor, while the large sofa had assumed quite an Oriental look, with its ample drapery of many-colored cashmere.
Paul was quite vain of his work, and was eying it proudly, scarcely thinking of the sources of his riches, when the door opened suddenly and admitted Sarah, whom he had forgotten altogether.
"The deuce!" she exclaimed, stopping on the threshold of the studio, "how grand we are here. One might be at Carolus's. Have you become a millionaire in this last twenty-four hours? Was it to give me this surprise that you forbade me to come? That was very nice of you."
The young girl had flung her arms about Paul's neck, and he, though he did not repulse her, could find nothing to say. But he had grown so red and was so plainly ill at ease that the model added, quickly:
"I seem to be in the way."
"No," stammered the artist, "how can you be so foolish?—but—"