THE AMERICAN
knew a very nice young man, employed by an insurance company, who would content himself with fifteen thousand francs. "Let your daughter paint half a dozen pictures for me," his benefactor then resumed, "and you can offer him his figure."
"Half a dozen pictures—his figure? Monsieur is n't speaking inconsiderately?"
"If she 'll make me six or eight copies in the Louvre as pretty as that 'Madonna', I 'll pay her the same price," said Newman.
Poor M. Nioche was speechless a moment, with amazement and gratitude; after which he seized Newman's hand and pressed it between his own ten fingers, gazing at him with watery eyes. "As pretty as that? They shall be a thousand times prettier—they shall be perfect little loves. Ah, if I only knew how to paint myself, sir, so that I might lend a hand! What can I do to thank you? Voyons!"—and he pressed his forehead while he tried to think of something.
"Oh, you've thanked me enough," said Newman.
"Ah, here it is, sir!" cried M. Nioche. "To express my gratitude I'll charge you nothing for our lessons!"
"Our lessons? I had quite forgotten them. Listening to your English," Newman laughed, "is really quite a lesson in French."
"Ah, I don't profess to teach English, certainly," said M. Nioche. "But for my own admirable tongue I'm still at your service."
"Since you're here then we'll begin. This is a very good hour, I'm going to have my coffee. Come
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