"How much do you pocket in a year?"
"Unfortunately, I am known only to painters. Schinner backs me; and he
has got me some work at the Chateau de Presles, where I am going in
October to do some arabesques, panels, and other decorations, for
which the Comte de Serizy, no doubt, will pay well. With such trifles
and with orders from the dealers, I may manage to earn eighteen
hundred to two thousand francs a year over and above the working
expenses. I shall send that picture to the next exhibition; if it hits
the public taste, my fortune is made. My friends think well of it."
"I don't know anything about such things," said Philippe, in a subdued
voice which caused Joseph to turn and look at him.
"What is the matter?" said the artist, seeing that his brother was
very pale.
"I should like to know how long it would take you to paint my
portrait?"
"If I worked steadily, and the weather were clear, I could finish it
in three or four days."
"That's too long; I have only one day to give you. My poor mother
loves me so much that I wished to leave her my likeness. We will say
no more about it."
"Why! are you going away again?"
"I am going never to return," replied Philippe with an air of forced
gayety.
"Look here, Philippe, what is the matter? If it is anything serious, I
am a man and not a ninny. I am accustomed to hard struggles, and if
discretion is needed, I have it."
"Are you sure?"
"On my honor."
"You will tell no one, no matter who?"
"No one.
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