"
"Give it all to your grandson," cried Joseph; "at any rate, do what
you like best with it."
"Hey! when it turns up I shall have enough for everybody. In the first
place, you shall have a fine atelier; you sha'n't deprive yourself of
going to the opera so as to pay for your models and your colors. Do
you know, my dear boy, you make me play a pretty shabby part in that
picture of yours?"
By way of economy, Joseph had made the Descoings pose for his
magnificent painting of a young courtesan taken by an old woman to a
Doge of Venice. This picture, one of the masterpieces of modern
painting, was mistaken by Gros himself for a Titian, and it paved the
way for the recognition which the younger artists gave to Joseph's
talent in the Salon of 1823.
"Those who know you know very well what you are," he answered gayly.
"Why need you trouble yourself about those who don't know you?"
For the last ten years Madame Descoings had taken on the ripe tints of
a russet apple at Easter. Wrinkles had formed in her superabundant
flesh, now grown pallid and flabby. Her eyes, full of life, were
bright with thoughts that were still young and vivacious, and might be
considered grasping; for there is always something of that spirit in a
gambler. Her fat face bore traces of dissimulation and of the mental
reservations hidden in the depths of her heart. Her vice necessitated
secrecy. There were also indications of gluttony in the motion of her
lips. And thus, although she was, as we have seen, an excellent and
upright woman, the eye might be misled by her appearance.
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