"A lion! a painter of landscapes a lion! Besides, I am no gallant. I never learned the art of carrying a lady's fan."
"I hope not; and for that very reason you are the proper subject for her. Your simplicity and frankness are all the more charming to a woman who needs new sensations. Probably she is tired of her blasé and wary admirers just now. She will capture you, and I shall see a new and obsequious slave."
Greenleaf attempted to speak, but could not get in a word.
"I felicitate you," continued Easelmann. "You will have a valuable experience, at any rate. To-morrow or next day we will call upon them. Good morning!"
Greenleaf returned his friend's farewell; then walking to a window, he took out a miniature. It was the picture of a young and beautiful girl. The calm eyes looked out upon him trustfully; the smile upon the mouth had never seemed so lovely. He thought of the proud, dazzling coquette, and then looked upon the image of the tender, earnest, truthful face before him. As he looked, he smiled at his friend's prophecy.
"This is my talisman," he said; and he raised the picture to his lips.
An evening or two later, as Easelmann was putting his brushes into water, Greenleaf came into his studio. The cloud-compelling meerschaums were produced, and they sat in high-backed chairs, watching the thin wreaths of smoke as they curled upwards to the skylight. The sale of pictures had taken place, and the prices, though not high enough to make the fortunes of the artists, were yet reasonably remunerative; the pictures were esteemed almost as highly, Easelmann thought, as the decorative sketches in an omnibus.
"And did Sandford buy your picture, Greenleaf?"
"Yes, I believe so. In fact, I saw it in his drawing-room, yesterday."