return, in the last chapter, to the estimates which he made of them and in which, while judging the masters whom he loved, he unconsciously depicted himself. It is to be remarked, however, that he made, so to speak, no copy of these works.
He finally decided to enter Delaroche's studio, where he had Couture, Hébert, Yvon and Feyen-Perrin for companions. He kept himself apart from the others. "The incomprehensible, weariful studio-slang and the puns tired him to death." As he was not of a patient temper and had great physical strength (as a child he had exercised his muscles in school battles) nobody dared to make too much fun of him; he was nick-named "the man of the woods." Delaroche, who had no genius at all but a great deal of intelligence and an intuition of genius, treated him with a mixture of esteem and hostility. Sometimes he would tell him harshly that he needed to be "ruled with a rod of iron," sometimes he would look at his work, sigh and go away without saying anything or giving any sort of advice; but when Millet left his studio he made endeavours to bring him back, saying to him: "You are
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