Idleness ended by weighing heavily on his shoulders, so he purchased a
canvas and colours, and set to work. As he had not sufficient money to
pay models, he resolved to paint according to fancy, without troubling
about nature, and he began the head of a man.
But at this time, he did not shut himself up so much as he had done;
he worked for two or three hours every morning and passed the afternoon
strolling hither and thither in Paris and its vicinity. It was opposite
the Institut, on his return from one of these long walks, that he
knocked up against his old college friend, who had met with a nice
little success, thanks to the good fellowship of his comrades, at the
last Salon.
"What, is it you?" exclaimed the painter. "Ah! my poor Laurent, I hardly
recognise you. You have lost flesh."
"I am married," answered Laurent in an embarrassed tone.
"Married, you!" said the other. "Then I am not surprised to see you look
so funny: and what are you doing now?"
"I have taken a small studio," replied Laurent; "and I paint a little,
in the morning."
Then, in a feverish voice, he briefly related the story of his marriage,
and explained his future plans. His friend observed him with an air
of astonishment that troubled and alarmed him.
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