Not even to Marshall did I confide my foreboding that Paris would pass out of my life, that it would henceforth be with me a beautiful memory, but never more a practical delight.  He and I were no longer living together; we had parted a second time, but this time without bitterness of any kind; he had learnt to feel that I wanted to live alone, and had moved away into the Latin quarter, whither I made occasional expeditions.  I accompanied him once to the old haunts, but various terms of penal servitude had scattered our friends, and I could not interest myself in the new.  Nor did Marshall himself interest me as he had once done.  To my eager taste, he had grown just a little trite.  My affection for him was as deep and sincere as ever; were I to meet him now I would grasp his hand and hail him with firm, loyal friendship; but I had made friends in the Nouvelle Athenes who interested me passionately, and my thoughts were absorbed by and set on new ideals, which Marshall had failed to find sympathy for, or even to understand.  I had introduced him to Degas and Manet, but he had spoken of Jules Lefevre and Bouguereau, and generally shown himself incapable of any higher education; he could not enter where I had entered, and this was alienation.  We could no longer even talk of the same people; when I spoke of a certain marquise, he answered with an indifferent “Do you really think so?” and proceeded to drag me away from my glitter of satin to the dinginess of print dresses.  It was more than alienation, it was almost separation; but he was still my friend, he was the man, and he always will be, to whom my youth, with all its aspirations, was most closely united.  So I turned to say good-bye to him and to my past life.  Rap—­rap—­rap!

“Who’s there?”

“I—­Dayne.”

“I’ve got a model.”

“Never mind your model.  Open the door.  How are you? what are you painting?”

“This; what do you think of it?”

“It is prettily composed.  I think it will come out all right.  I am going to England; come to say good-bye.”

“Going to England!  What will you do in England?”

“I have to go about money matters; very tiresome.  I had really begun to forget there was such a place.”

“But you are not going to stay there?”

“Oh, no!”

“You will be just in time to see the Academy.”

The conversation turned on art, and we aestheticised for an hour.  At last Marshall said, “I am really sorry, old chap, but I must send you away; there’s that model.”

The girl sat waiting, her pale hair hanging down her back, a very picture of discontent.

“Send her away.”

“I asked her to come out to dinner.”

“D——­n her ...  Well, never mind, I must spend this last evening with you; you shall both dine with me. Je quitte Paris demain matin, peut-etre pour longtemps; je voudrais passer ma derniere soiree avec mon ami; alors si vous voulez bien me permettre, mademoiselle, je vous invite tous les deux a diner; nous passerons la soiree ensemble si cela vous est agreable?”