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 ment, Auguste, I have forgotten." He sorted a note from a dozen on the mantelpiece, and read it. "Ask milor if he will enter." A minute later there appeared a middle-aged, well-groomed Englishman.

"Good morning, monsieur," the painter said stiffly. "I regret that you should have had the trouble of coming. I only returned last night, and found your note.

"I did not expect an answer," Lord Harlekston said in excellent French. Carbouche, of course, could speak no other tongue.

"But I regret to have caused you a fruitless journey."

"I am delighted to have made it. It is, if you will allow me to say so, a great privilege to have entered your studio."

"I am flattered," the painter said, coldly, "but I apologise again for the unanswered note."

"It is very good of you to apologise, but."

"And I regret exceedingly," Carbouche began again.

"Will you allow me to sit down?" the Englishman asked, and went towards one of the chairs.

"Certainly, monsieur;" but it was said half unwillingly. Lord Harlekston looked round the studio again, then at the artist, who had seated himself, facing his visitor.

"I see you affect the severities of life rather than the frivolities," the latter went on; "it is quite a relief. One can breathe in your studio. London ones choke you; they are so full of gimcracks." Carbouche bowed; he evidently wished to convey that it would be well to come to the point. Lord Harlekston took the hint. "I told you in my note that my wife wished to be painted by you, M. Carbouche."

"I am much honoured by the desire of Madame la Comtesse, and regret that I am not a portrait painter."

"She would think it an honour to sit to you," Lord Harlekston said courteously.

"I regret much that I am not a portrait painter," Carbouche repeated distantly.

"But," said Lord Harlekston hesitatingly, "I think I have seen one or two portraits that you have painted."

"That is possible; but they have been very few, and for each one there have been reasons."

"Would it not be possible to make a reason in this case?"

"I have never painted a woman, monsieur. I do not wish to paint one, much as I am flattered at your desire that I should begin with madame."

Lord Harlekston was evidently a diplomat. "You increase my desire by that remark," he said suavely. "Is it not possible to persuade you? One feels a hesitation in speaking of money in connection with work like yours. Its value, I know, is immense."

"It is immense, monsieur," the painter said grimly, and turned towards the fire.

"Which again increases my desire."

"I would not paint a woman under—" and he named an enormous sum, "and then I should prefer not to do it," and he looked into the fire almost savagely.

"I should be delighted to pay that sum, and most grateful to you besides."

"I am very busy, and I never did a portrait that took much time—three or four sittings at most."

"That would be fortunate, since our stay in Paris is very short."

"I would not give much time to a face that is, after all, of no interest to the world," the painter went on. "I do