“But suppose that I don’t choose to have it sold?” said its real author.
“Oh, my dear monsieur,” said the innkeeper, “I am certain you would not wish to deprive an honest poor man, who can scarcely make both ends meet, of this windfall. Why, it would just enable me to lay in a good stock of wine and beer.”
“Don’t believe him, brother,” cried the painter, “he is an old miser. I am the father of a family; and being a painter, you ought to help a brother artist, and give me the preference. Besides, I am ready to share the money with you.”
“He!” said Master Martzen. “Why, he’s an old spendthrift, who has no money left to give his daughter as a marriage portion, because he spends all he gets on himself.”
“No such thing; my Susette is betrothed to an honest, young French cabinet-maker; who, poor as she is, will marry her next September.”
“A daughter to portion!” exclaimed the stranger artist; “that quite alters the case. I am content that the picture should be sold for a marriage portion. I leave it to our English friend’s generosity to fix the sum.”
“I have already offered,” replied the best bidder, “one hundred guineas for the sketch just as it is: I will gladly give two hundred for it if the painter will consent to sign it in the corner with two words.”
“What words?” exclaimed all the disputants at once.
The Englishman replied,
“Pierre David.”