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romances discovered by Augustine in the cupboard of a cook Madame
Guillaume had lately discharged/Hippolyte Comte de Douglas/ and /Le
Comte de Comminges/may have contributed to develop the ideas of the
young girl； who had devoured them in secret； during the long nights of
the past winter。
And so Augustine's expression of vague longing； her gentle voice； her
jasmine skin； and her blue eyes had lighted in poor Lebas' soul a
flame as ardent as it was reverent。 From an easily understood caprice；
Augustine felt no affection for the orphan； perhaps she did not know
that he loved her。 On the other hand； the senior apprentice； with his
long legs； his chestnut hair； his big hands and powerful frame； had
found a secret admirer in Mademoiselle Virginie； who； in spite of her
dower of fifty thousand crowns； had as yet no suitor。 Nothing could be
more natural than these two passions at cross…purposes； born in the
silence of the dingy shop； as violets bloom in the depths of a wood。
The mute and constant looks which made the young people's eyes meet by
sheer need of change in the midst of persistent work and cloistered
peace； was sure； sooner or later； to give rise to feelings of love。
The habit of seeing always the same face leads insensibly to our
reading there the qualities of the soul； and at last effaces all its
defects。
〃At the pace at which that man goes； our girls will soon have to go on
their knees to a suitor！〃 said Monsieur Guillaume to himself； as he
read the first decree by which Napoleon drew in advance on the
conscript classes。
From that day the old merchant； grieved at seeing his eldest daughter
fade； remembered how he had married Mademoiselle Chevrel under much
the same circumstances as those of Joseph Lebas and Virginie。 A good
bit of business； to marry off his daughter； and discharge a sacred
debt by repaying to an orphan the benefit he had formerly received
from his predecessor under similar conditions！ Joseph Lebas； who was
now three…and…thirty； was aware of the obstacle which a difference of
fifteen years placed between Augustine and himself。 Being also too
clear…sighted not to understand Monsieur Guillaume's purpose； he knew
his inexorable principles well enough to feel sure that the second
would never marry before the elder。 So the hapless assistant； whose
heart was as warm as his legs were long and his chest deep； suffered
in silence。
This was the state of the affairs in the tiny republic which； in the
heart of the Rue Saint…Denis； was not unlike a dependency of La
Trappe。 But to give a full account of events as well as of feelings；
it is needful to go back to some months before the scene with which
this story opens。 At dusk one evening； a young man passing the
darkened shop of the Cat and Racket； had paused for a moment to gaze
at a picture which might have arrested every painter in the world。 The
shop was not yet lighted； and was as a dark cave beyond which the
dining…room was visible。 A hanging lamp shed the yellow light which
lends such charm to pictures of the Dutch school。 The white linen； the
silver； the cut glass； were brilliant accessories； and made more
picturesque by strong contrasts of light and shade。 The figures of the
head of the family and his wife； the faces of the apprentices； and the
pure form of Augustine； near whom a fat chubby…cheeked maid was
standing； composed so strange a group； the heads were so singular； and
every face had so candid an expression； it was so easy to read the
peace； the silence； the modest way of life in this family； that to an
artist accustomed to render nature； there was something hopeless in
any attempt to depict this scene； come upon by chance。 The stranger
was a young painter； who； seven years before； had gained the first
prize for painting。 He had now just come back from Rome。 His soul；
full…fed with poetry； his eyes； satiated with Raphael and Michael
Angelo； thirsted for real nature after long dwelling in the pompous
land where art has everywhere left something grandiose。 Right or
wrong； this was his personal feeling。 His heart； which had long been a
prey to the fire of Italian passion； craved one of those modest and
meditative maidens whom in Rome he had unfortunately seen only in
painting。 From the enthusiasm produced in his excited fancy by the
living picture before him； he naturally passed to a profound
admiration for the principal figure； Augustine seemed to be pensive；
and did not eat； by the arrangement of the lamp the light fell full on
her face； and her bust seemed to move in a circle of fire； which threw
up the shape of her head and illuminated it with almost supernatural
effect。 The artist involuntarily compared her to an exiled angel
dreaming of heaven。 An almost unknown emotion； a limpid； seething love
flooded his heart。 After remaining a minute； overwhelmed by the weight
of his ideas； he tore himself from his bliss； went home； ate nothing；
and could not sleep。
The next day he went to his studio； and did not come out of it till he
had placed on canvas the magic of the scene of which the memory had；
in a sense； made him a devotee； his happiness was incomplete till he
should possess a faithful portrait of his idol。 He went many times
past the house of the Cat and Racket； he even ventured in once or
twice； under a disguise； to get a closer view of the bewitching
creature that Madame Guillaume covered with her wing。 For eight whole
months； devoted to his love and to his brush； he was lost to the sight
of his most intimate friends forgetting the world； the theatre；
poetry； music； and all his dearest habits。 One morning Girodet broke
through all the barriers with which artists are familiar； and which
they know how to evade； went into his room； and woke him by asking；
〃What are you going to send to the Salon？〃 The artist grasped his
friend's hand； dragged him off to the studio； uncovered a small easel
picture and a portrait。 After a long and eager study of the two
masterpieces； Girodet threw himself on his comrade's neck and hugged
him； without speaking a word。 His feelings could only be expressed as
he felt themsoul to soul。
〃You are in love？〃 said Girodet。
They both knew that the finest portraits by Titian； Raphael； and
Leonardo da Vinci； were the outcome of the enthusiastic sentiments by
which； indeed； under various conditions； every masterpiece is
engendered。 The artist only bent his head in reply。
〃How happy are you to be able to be in love； here； after coming back
from Italy！ But I do not advise you to send such works as these to the
Salon；〃 the great painter went on。 〃You see； these two works will not
be appreciated。 Such true coloring； such prodigious work； cannot yet
be understood； the public is not accustomed to such depths。 The
pictures we paint； my dear fellow； are mere screens。 We should do
better to turn rhymes； and translate the antique poets！ There is more
glory to be looked for there than from our luckless canvases！〃
Notwithstanding this charitable advice； the two pictures were
exhibited。 The /Interior/ made a revolution in painting。 It gave birth
to the pictures of genre which pour into all our exhibitions in such
prodigious