human
by such journey-work. There is a story told of him, that when one day an Englishman knocked at his door and asked,
gpt
Does the draughtsman who makes the small portraits live here? he shut the door in his face, with the words:
human
No; he who lives here is a painter. To-day these small masterpieces of which he was ashamed sell for their weight in gold. In the Paris Exhibition of 1889 there was Mme. Chauvin with her Chinese eyes; Mme. Besnard on the terrace of the Pincio with her broad hat and her elegant sunshade; Mrs. Henting with her innocent smile of an