In the following year a picture by a famous painter was exhibited by the Paris Salon; it was entitled "A Jewish Mother," and represented a woman sitting beneath a cherry tree in flower, with two young children gamboling on the turf at her feet. In the background were two men, the curé of the village and a Jew, the latter being the woman's husband, and looking like a modern Moses. The faces of the men--one full-flushed, with massive features and a grand beard, the other spare and lean, with thin, clear-cut features and a close-shaven face--formed a fine contrast. But although the points of this contrast were brought out in masterly fashion, and although the rustic scene was full of beauty, the supreme attraction of the picture lay in the woman's face. It dwelt in the minds of all who beheld it, and it is not too much to say that it carried with it an influence for good. So is it also with a pure poem and story; the impression they leave is an incentive to kindly act and tolerant judgment; they soften, they ameliorate, they bring into play the higher attributes of human nature, and in their practical results a benefit is conferred equally upon the sufferer by the wayside and the Samaritan who pours oil upon his wounds. "Who is the woman?" asked the critics, and no one could answer the question except the painter, and he held his tongue. The secret was this: The famous painter, passing through the village with the subject of his next great picture in his mind, saw Rachel, and was spellbound by the purity and grace of her face and figure. Traveling under an assumed name, in order that he should not be disturbed by the trumpet blasts of fame--a proof (clear to few men) that there is pleasure in obscurity--he cast aside the subject he had intended to paint, and determined to take Rachel in its stead. He made himself acquainted with her story, was introduced to Aaron, and contrived to make himself welcome in their home--no difficult matter, for Aaron was ever ready to appreciate intellect. Many an evening did this painter pass with them, sometimes in company with the curé, and many a friendly argument did they have. He did not ask Rachel and Aaron to be his models, but he made innumerable sketches of them, and remained in the village long enough to accumulate all the principal points and accessories for his picture. Then he departed and painted his masterpiece elsewhere. Some time afterward he revisited the village with the intention of making acknowledgment for the inspiration, but Aaron and his family had departed, and the painter's secret was undivulged.