"'What is your name?'
"I turned to answer him.
"'My name is Couture.'
"'You are not Couture who painted the Décadence des Romains!'
"'Yes, sir.'
"I felt myself seized by my waistcoat, pulled in violently, then I heard the terrible door close but this time I was inside, pushed up against the wall of the entry.
"'You Couture? is it possible? you so young; why, what was I about to do—I was going to shut the door in your face!'
"'It was already done, M. Béranger.'
"'But don't you know that I adore you? don't you know that it is one of the dreams of my old age to have my portrait by you? do I consent to sit? why, I am entirely at your disposition!'
"Then, taking me by the hand, he presented me to his venerable wife, saying: