Surely it was a striking achievement. I don't think it occurred to me then to reflect how large a practice Dufour had had with the "temptations" realistically treated; certainly he had a name for the painting of them which no one could outdo; and if his new departure from the direction of gas and limelight to plein air went well, there was everything to hope.
"And when are you to go again?" I asked, as I scraped the clay from my slippers on the wide door mat in our draughty entresol.
"Not for three days; he goes out of town, to Nancy. On Sunday night I go again, and am to pose in costume. He is to have me after, every night for a week, while he draws only, to choose his exact position; after that, I have to give up some daylight; but it won't matter, for I can join the evening class again for black and white. I have often thought of it, and meant to."
"And you don't think it is going to tire you horribly—standing and not saying anything?"
"Tire? Nothing could tire me. I could pose on one leg for him like a stork, for hours at a time, and never complain."
"I don t think it likely that a position of that kind" I began; but he struck in:
"But not if that woman is about. She makes me nervous. You should see her hands: they are all white and swollen. When I ran a thorn in my thumb and it swelled, it went like that—all dead and cooked-looking."
"Don't!" I shouted. "Of course she won't be there. It isn't likely he would have a servant about when he worked."
"She isn't a servant; she called him 'Toni,' and she took hold"
"She was a model" I said; and Wladislaw, who was so head-
