"It is not there any longer," replied the widow, ringing the bell.
"Baptiste," said she to the servant who came in, "bring down the portrait of your master."
"The portrait that you sent up to the garret last week, madam?"
"Yes."
At this moment the door opened, and a young man of distinguished air entered; his manners were easy and familiar; he kissed the fair widow's hand, and tenderly inquired after her health. "Who in the world is this good man in plaster?" asked he, pointing with his finger to the statuette, which the artist had placed upon the mantel-piece.
"It is the model of a statue for my husband's tomb."
"You are having a statue of him made? The devil! It's very majestic!"
"Do you think so?"
"It is only great men who are thus cut out of marble, and at full length; it seems to me, too, that the deceased was a very ordinary personage."
"In fact, his bust would be sufficient."