They looked thick and substantial, each part being dashed off with
magnificent dabs of colour on a clear grey background. The artist
quickly approached, and was so astounded that he did not even seek to
conceal his amazement.
"Did you do those?" he inquired of Laurent.
"Yes," replied the latter. "They are studies that I intend to utilise in
a large picture I am preparing."
"Come, no humbug, are you really the author of those things?"
"Eh! Yes. Why should I not be the author of them?"
The painter did not like to answer what he thought, which was as
follows:
"Because those canvases are the work of an artist, and you have never
been anything but a vile bungler."
For a long time, he remained before the studies in silence. Certainly
they were clumsy, but they were original, and so powerfully executed
that they indicated a highly developed idea of art. They were life-like.
Never had this friend of Laurent seen rough painting so full of high
promise. When he had examined all the canvases, he turned to the author
of them and said:
"Well, frankly, I should never have thought you capable of painting like
that. Where the deuce did you learn to have talent? It is not usually a
thing that one acquires.
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