His Highness often gave me the benefit of his criticisms, and although he did not profess to be a painter, his remarks were so redolent of common sense, that they were well worth listening to. A painter staring at his picture, day after day as it grows under his hand, may completely overlook faults that are obvious even to an untrained eye. Hence, I always listened to the Amîr’s remarks with interest. He could tell me when a thing struck him as in some way not true, though he could not tell me exactly what was wrong, nor in what way to remedy the defect. These I puzzled out for myself. As an example: he said one day that the paint had become rubbed, showing the canvas through, and he pointed to the spot--on the end of the nose. It was not the paint rubbed off, but I had put a touch of high light on the spot indicated, and the Amîr’s remark showed me that my “high light” was too white and too strong, or it would never have caught his eye. I altered it. Another day, looking at the picture, he said it needed something, he hardly knew what. Suddenly, he sent a Page off to another room and the boy returned with a Russian tea-tray which had a picture on it--a gorgeous sunset behind some mountains. “Bibín,” said the Amîr, “See! something like that is needed.” I was nonplussed for a moment: the tea-tray was too awful for words. Then I saw what His Highness meant. “Sahib! shuma rast megoyèd,” I said, in admiration. “Sir! you speak truly. I will remedy the fault.” In a few minutes I had put in a shadow behind the head, which threw it up wonderfully. I had not noticed, till the Amîr pointed it out, that the head had rather the look of being cut out and stuck on the canvas. His Highness saw there was a want of harmony somewhere, and his tea-tray showed me where. It will be understood, therefore, that when the last sitting was given and the last touch made, I felt a certain amount of--nervous excitement, while I was waiting for His Highness’s dictum. The portrait was placed in a good light. His Highness called for a large mirror, which was placed by the side of it, and he sat for some time comparing his reflection in the glass with the picture. Presently he said that the only fault he could find was that I had, perhaps, given a little too much colour to the cheeks. He said he had that colour when he was younger, but that now he was forty-six (this was in 1890), and his face struck him as being somewhat paler. This did not take long to remedy, and it was shown him again.