THE AMERICAN
The two men looked at each other, Valentin as with vivid intelligence. "You've spoiled my picture," said his friend.
"I know that very well. It was the only thing to do with it. I had sat looking at it all day without touching it. I had begun to hate it. It seemed to me something was going to happen."
"I like it better that way than as it was before," said Valentin. "Now it's more interesting. It tells a little story now. Is it for sale, mademoiselle?"
"Everything I have is for sale," she promptly replied.
"How much then is this object?"
"Ten thousand francs—and very cheap!"
"Everything mademoiselle may do at present is mine in advance," Newman interposed. "It makes part of an order I gave her some months ago. So you can't have that!"
"Monsieur will lose nothing by it," said mademoiselle with her charming eyes on Valentin. And she began to put up her utensils.
"I shall have gained an ineffaceable memory," Valentin smiled. "You're going away? your day's over?"
"My father comes to fetch me," the young lady replied.
She had hardly spoken when, through the door behind her, which opens on one of the great white stone staircases of the Louvre, M. Nioche made his appearance. He came in with his usual patient shuffle, indulging in a low salute to the gentlemen who had done him the honour to gather about his daugh-
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