During this first sitting the Vervelle family became almost intimate
with the worthy artist. They were to come again two days later. As
they went away the father told Virginie to walk in front; but in spite
of this separation, she overheard the following words, which naturally
awakened her curiosity.

"Decorated--thirty-seven years old--an artist who gets orders--puts
his money with our notary. We'll consult Cardot. Hein! Madame de
Fougeres! not a bad name--doesn't look like a bad man either! One
might prefer a merchant; but before a merchant retires from business
one can never know what one's daughter may come to; whereas an
economical artist--and then you know we love Art--Well, we'll see!"

While the Vervelle family discussed Pierre Grassou, Pierre Grassou
discussed in his own mind the Vervelle family. He found it impossible
to stay peacefully in his studio, so he took a walk on the boulevard,
and looked at all the red-haired women who passed him. He made a
series of the oddest reasonings to himself: gold was the handsomest of
metals; a tawny yellow represented gold; the Romans were fond of
red-haired women, and he turned Roman, etc. After two years of marriage
what man would ever care about the color of his wife's hair? Beauty
fades,--but ugliness remains! Money is one-half of all happiness. That
night when he went to bed the painter had come to think Virginie
Vervelle charming.

When the three Vervelles arrived on the day of the second sitting the
artist received them with smiles. The rascal had shaved and put on
clean linen; he had also arranged his hair in a pleasing manner, and
chosen a very becoming pair of trousers and red leather slippers with
pointed toes. The family replied with smiles as flattering as those of