“Oh, to-day,” answered Valentin, “I am not in a mood for pictures, and the more beautiful they are the less I like them.  Their great staring eyes and fixed positions irritate me.  I feel as if I were at some big, dull party, in a room full of people I shouldn’t wish to speak to.  What should I care for their beauty?  It’s a bore, and, worse still, it’s a reproach.  I have a great many ennuis; I feel vicious.”

“If the Louvre has so little comfort for you, why in the world did you come here?” Newman asked.

“That is one of my ennuis.  I came to meet my cousin—­a dreadful English cousin, a member of my mother’s family—­who is in Paris for a week for her husband, and who wishes me to point out the ‘principal beauties.’  Imagine a woman who wears a green crape bonnet in December and has straps sticking out of the ankles of her interminable boots!  My mother begged I would do something to oblige them.  I have undertaken to play valet de place this afternoon.  They were to have met me here at two o’clock, and I have been waiting for them twenty minutes.  Why doesn’t she arrive?  She has at least a pair of feet to carry her.  I don’t know whether to be furious at their playing me false, or delighted to have escaped them.”

“I think in your place I would be furious,” said Newman, “because they may arrive yet, and then your fury will still be of use to you.  Whereas if you were delighted and they were afterwards to turn up, you might not know what to do with your delight.”

“You give me excellent advice, and I already feel better.  I will be furious; I will let them go to the deuce and I myself will go with you—­unless by chance you too have a rendezvous.”

“It is not exactly a rendezvous,” said Newman.  “But I have in fact come to see a person, not a picture.”

“A woman, presumably?”

“A young lady.”

“Well,” said Valentin, “I hope for you with all my heart that she is not clothed in green tulle and that her feet are not too much out of focus.”

“I don’t know much about her feet, but she has very pretty hands.”

Valentin gave a sigh.  “And on that assurance I must part with you?”

“I am not certain of finding my young lady,” said Newman, “and I am not quite prepared to lose your company on the chance.  It does not strike me as particularly desirable to introduce you to her, and yet I should rather like to have your opinion of her.”

“Is she pretty?”

“I guess you will think so.”

Bellegarde passed his arm into that of his companion.  “Conduct me to her on the instant!  I should be ashamed to make a pretty woman wait for my verdict.”