Four days later—I had meantime confided the story to no one—four days later Wladislaw approached me mysteriously from behind as I was returning one morning from a visit to the Rue de la Gaiete, with a bunch of onions, half a loaf of black bread, and two turkey-thighs in a string bag.
I knew from the set of his cap that something unusual had happened ; and besides, it was the hour at which he should have been scraping at his fusain in the men s studio. He put a letter in my hand.
"You will say nothing to anybody? I want you to translate it. I can t understand it all. But you will tell no one?"
I responded with an eager denial and the question as to who there could be for me to tell.
He seemed to overlook the half-hundred of students we both knew, as readily as I did; and we opened the letter.
This was it :
"Monsieur,—My name may perhaps be a sufficient assurance to you that my unusual conduct of the other evening in discovering for myself your residence and profession had no unworthy motive. The explanation is simple. I am painting a large canvas, to be called 'he Temptation.' I cannot proceed for want of a model for my Christ. When my eyes fell upon you, I realised instantly that yours was the only face in the world that could satisfy my aspiration. It was impossible for me not to follow you, at the risk of any and every misunderstanding. I beg you to receive my complete apologies. Will you sit to me? I appeal to you as a brother of the brush—permit me to leave behind me the most perfect Christ-face that has ever been conceived. Times and terms shall be as you will.
"Accept, Monsieur and colleague, the assurance of my most distinguished sentiments.
"Dufour."
