"Thunder and lightning!" said Schaunard to himself, "if he goes on so, I shall burst, and hurt him with one of the pieces." "Did you see?" whispered Marcel. "What?" "He has a black coat." "I take. Let me manage." "Well," quoth the delegate, "when do we begin? There is no time to lose, for I sail soon." "I have to take a little trip myself the day after tomorrow; so, if you please, we will begin at once. One good sitting will help us along some way." "But it will soon be night, and you can't paint by candle light." "My room is arranged so that we can work at all hours in it. If you will take off your coat, and put yourself in position, we will commence." "Take off my coat! What for?" "You told me that you intend this portrait for your family." "Certainly." "Well, then, you ought to be represented in your at-home dress--in your dressing gown. It is the custom to be so." "But I haven't any dressing gown here." "But I have. The case is provided for," quoth Schaunard, presenting to his sitter a very ragged garment, so ornamented with paint-marks that the honest provincial hesitated about setting into it. "A very odd dress," said he. "And very valuable. A Turkish vizier gave it to Horace Vernet, and he gave it to me when he had done with it. I am a pupil of his." "Are you a pupil of Vernet's?" "I am proud to be," said the artist. "Wretch that I am!" he muttered to himself, "I deny my gods and masters!" "You have reason to be proud, my young friend," replied the delegate donning the dressing-gown with the illustrious origin. "Hang up Monsieur Blancheron's coat in the wardrobe," said Schaunard to his friend, with a significant wink. "Ain't he too good?" whispered Marcel as he pounced on his prey, and nodded towards Blancheron. "If you could only keep a piece of him." "I'll try; but do you dress yourself, and cut. Come back by ten; I will keep him till then. Above all, bring me something in your pocket." "I'll bring you a pineapple," said Marcel as he evaporated. He dressed himself hastily; the dress-coat fit him like a glove. Then he went out by the second door of the studio. Schaunard set himself to work. When it was fairly night, Monsieur Blancheron heard the clock strike six, and remembered that he had not dined. He informed Schaunard of the fact. "I am in the same position," said the other, "but to oblige you, I will go without today, though I had an invitation in the Faubourg St. Germain. But we can't break off now, it might spoil the resemblance." And he painted away harder than ever. "By the way," said he, suddenly, "we can dine without breaking off. There is a capital restaurant downstairs, which will send us up anything we like." And Schaunard awaited the effect of his trial of plurals. "I accept your idea," said Blancheron, "an in return, I hope you will do me the honor of keeping me company at table."