She greeted me with a gracious and at the same time coaxing nod of her head and in a very sweet voice, which thrilled me deliciously, she said: "I am delighted to meet you, Monsieur, but I know you well." While very much flushed, I was stammering out a few confused and silly words, Lirat broke in mockingly: "I hope you are not going to make him believe that you have read his book?" "I beg your pardon, Monsieur Lirat.... I have read it.... It is very good." "Yes, like my studio and my painting, isn't that right?" "Oh, no! what a comparison!" She said it frankly, with a laugh, which rolled through the room like the chirping of a bird. I did not like this laughter. Although it had a hard, sonorous quality, it nevertheless rang false. It seemed to me out of harmony with the expression of her face, so delicately sad, and then, in my admiration for Lirat's genius it hurt me almost like an insult. I do not know why, but it would have been more pleasing to me if she had expressed her admiration for this great unrecognized artist, if she had shown at this moment a loftier judgment, if she had evinced a sentiment superior to those of other women. On the other hand the contemptuous manner of Lirat, his tone of bitter hostility, shocked me deeply! I had a grudge against him for this affected rudeness, for this attitude of boyish insolence which lowered him in my esteem, I thought. I was displeased and very much embarrassed. I tried to speak of indifferent things, but not a single object of conversation came to my mind. The young woman got up. She walked a few steps in the studio, stopped before the sketches lying in a heap, examined one or two of them with an air of disgust. "My God! Monsieur Lirat," she said, "why do you persist in painting such ugly women, so comically shaped?" "If I should tell you," Lirat replied, "you would not understand it." "Thanks!... And when will you paint my portrait?" "You should ask Monsieur Jacket or, better still, a photographer about that." "Monsieur Lirat?" "Madame!" "Do you know why I came?" "To oblige me with your kindness, I suppose." "That's in the first place!... And then?" "We seem to be playing an innocent little game? That's very nice." "To ask you to come to dine with me on Friday? Do you care to?" "You are very kind, dear Madame, but on Friday that is just when it will be utterly impossible. That's my day at the Institute." "Well, of all things!... Charles will be hurt by your refusal." "You will express my regrets to him, will you not?" "Well, good bye, Monsieur Lirat! A person can freeze to death here." And walking over to me, she gave me her hand. "Monsieur Mintié. I am home every day, from five to seven!... I shall be delighted to see you ... delighted...."