This man, already matured, reserved, and little given to effusive outbursts, took a fancy to the red haired young lad. The pair would sit together in the studio; they would spend the evenings chatting in the modest students’ apartment where Seroff lived and drinking plenty of tea. Those were the happy days! They lasted for eighteen months. Clouds were, however, gathering over the head of Bakst who had already given repeated offense to his superiors by his whims of independence. A free competition was announced in which “The Madonna Weeping Over Christ” was to be the subject and the Grand Medal of silver the prize. Bakst joined the competitors. He sought inspiration from those artists of his time who had attempted a revival of religious subjects by displaying a realistic setting--thus breaking away from the iconographic traditions of the Renaissance--, by giving care to ethnographic detail, by minutely studying the expression observed. These artists included Repine and Polienoff in Russia, and Munkaczy abroad. But, carried away by a youthful enthusiasm, he wished to go beyond the fastidious and cautious realism of these painters and make a ten=strike. He therefore chose a canvas of enormous dimensions--almost seven feet in length--and plunged into his work. For the characters of the legend he set down Jewish types that were obviously overdone, and imparted [Illustration: VII “MODERN DRESS” (A “FANTAISIE”)] [Illustration: VIII “DAPHNIS AND CHLOE PARTING IN THE EVENING”. SKETCH FOR DECORATIVE PANEL (GOUACHE).] a movement to them that imitated the gesticulation of Lithuanian clothing merchants or of elders in the synagogue. As to the Virgin, she was an old, dishevelled woman, with eyes red from weeping. Our candidate was, to be sure, vaguely conscious of the fact that he was digging his own grave; nevertheless he obstinately persisted in his daring attempt. [Illustration: “SYRENS”. PROJECT OF PANNEAU.] What anguish he suffered while he awaited the decision of the jury on the winding staircase that constituted the Bridge of Sighs for the young daubers of Petrograd! And justly so, for when his name was called and he appeared before the tribunal, he saw his canvas crossed out by two furious strokes of crayon, and he had to listen to an official rebuke by the president. The next day he quit the Academy under the impassive glances of the two bearded sphinxes of pink marble, emerging from the gloomy twilight. [Illustration: A HUT (SAVOY). DRAWING] A WRONG START