THE AMERICAN
his young companion did n't bring to this task the zealous co-operation that might have been desired. "But what will you have? One is in the flower of youth, one is pretty, one needs new dresses and fresh gloves; one can't wear shabby gowns among the splendours of the Louvre."
"Yet she must earn what will pay for her clothes," Newman felt enlisted enough to suggest.
M. Nioche looked at him with weak, uncertain eyes. He would have liked to be able to say that his daughter's talents were appreciated and that her crooked little daubs commanded a market; but it seemed a scandal to abuse the credulity of this free-handed stranger, who, without a suspicion or a question, had admitted him to equal social rights. He compromised, he declared that while it was obvious that Mademoiselle Noémie's reproductions of the old masters had only to be seen to be coveted, the prices which, in consideration of their altogether peculiar degree of finish, she felt obliged to ask for them, had kept purchasers at a respectful distance. "Poor little cherished one!" said M. Nioche with a sigh; "it's almost a pity that her work's so perfect! It would be in her interest to be a bit of an impostor."
"But if she has this spark of the flame," Newman benevolently reasoned, "why should you have those fears for her that you spoke of the other day?"
M. Nioche meditated; there was an inconsistency in his position; it made him particularly uncomfortable. Though he had no desire to destroy the goose with the golden eggs—Newman's benevolent confidence—he felt a weary need to speak out
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