that sell, you know, and are collected at fabulous prices for the world’s museums, after the great man is gone; we’ll have a ton of them ready—­a ton!  And all that time the rest of us will be busy supporting the moribund, and working Paris and the dealers—­preparations for the coming event, you know; and when everything is hot and just right, we’ll spring the death on them and have the notorious funeral.  You get the idea?”

’"N-o; at least, not qu—­”

’"Not quite?  Don’t you see?  The man doesn’t really die; he changes his name and vanishes; we bury a dummy, and cry over it, with all the world to help.  And I—­”

’But he wasn’t allowed to finish.  Everybody broke out into a rousing hurrah of applause; and all jumped up and capered about the room and fell on each other’s necks in transports of gratitude and joy.  For hours we talked over the great plan, without ever feeling hungry; and at last, when all the details had been arranged satisfactorily, we cast lots and Millet was elected—­elected to die, as we called it.  Then we scraped together those things which one never parts with until he is betting them against future wealth—­keepsake trinkets and suchlike—­and these we pawned for enough to furnish us a frugal farewell supper and breakfast, and leave us a few francs over for travel, and a stake of turnips and such for Millet to live on for a few days.

’Next morning, early, the three of us cleared out, straightway after breakfast—­on foot, of course.  Each of us carried a dozen of Millet’s small pictures, purposing to market them.  Carl struck for Paris, where he would start the work of building up Millet’s name against the coming great day.  Claude and I were to separate, and scatter abroad over France.

’Now, it will surprise you to know what an easy and comfortable thing we had.  I walked two days before I began business.  Then I began to sketch a villa in the outskirts of a big town—­because I saw the proprietor standing on an upper veranda.  He came down to look on—­I thought he would.  I worked swiftly, intending to keep him interested.  Occasionally he fired off a little ejaculation of approbation, and by-and-by he spoke up with enthusiasm, and said I was a master!

’I put down my brush, reached into my satchel, fetched out a Millet, and pointed to the cipher in the corner.  I said, proudly: 

’"I suppose you recognise that?  Well, he taught me!  I should think I ought to know my trade!”

’The man looked guiltily embarrassed, and was silent.  I said sorrowfully: 

’"You don’t mean to intimate that you don’t know the cipher of Francois Millet!”

’Of course he didn’t know that cipher; but he was the gratefullest man you ever saw, just the same, for being let out of an uncomfortable place on such easy terms.  He said: 

’"No!  Why, it is Millet’s, sure enough!  I don’t know what I could have been thinking of.  Of course I recognise it now.”