The truth was that the
painter no longer found in the husband of Therese, the coarse, common
fellow he had known formerly. It seemed to him that Laurent was
acquiring a gentlemanly bearing; his face had grown thinner, and had
taken the pale tint of good taste, while his whole frame looked more
upright and supple.
"But you are becoming a handsome chap," the artist could not refrain
from exclaiming. "You are dressed like an ambassador, in the latest
style. Who's your model?"
Laurent, who felt the weight of the examination he was undergoing, did
not dare to abruptly take himself off.
"Will you come up to my studio for a moment?" he at last asked his
friend, who showed no signs of leaving him.
"Willingly," answered the latter.
The painter, who could not understand the change he noticed in his old
comrade, was anxious to visit his studio. He had no idea of climbing
five floors to gaze on the new pictures of Laurent, which assuredly
would disgust him; he merely wished to satisfy his curiosity.
When he had reached the studio, and had glanced at the canvases hanging
against the walls, his astonishment redoubled. They comprised five
studies, two heads of women, and three of men painted with real vigour.
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