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There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. I have since received a most extraordinary letter from her. Wild," observed Austin, as he put on his coat, and adjusted his minor bob. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. “I am just back from Paris.
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