It was the _Adam_ which Mabuse painted in order to obtain his release from the prison in which his creditors kept him so long. In truth, that face was of such startling reality that Nicolas Poussin began at that moment to understand the true meaning of the old man's confused remarks. The latter glanced at the picture with a satisfied expression, but without enthusiasm, and seemed to say: "I have done better than that!" "There is life in it," he said; "my poor master surpassed himself; but it still lacks a little truth in the background. The man is thoroughly alive; he is about to rise and walk towards us. But the air, the sky, the wind, which we breathe and see and feel, are not there. And then there is only a man! Now the only man that ever came forth from the hands of God ought to have something of the divine, which he lacks. Mabuse himself said so with irritation, when he was not drunk." Poussin glanced at the old man and Porbus in turn, with restless curiosity. He approached the latter as if to ask him the name of their host; but the painter put his finger to his lips with a mysterious air, and the young man, intensely interested, kept silence, hoping that sooner or later some chance remark would enable him to discover the name of his host, whose wealth and talent were sufficiently attested by the respect which Porbus manifested for him and by the marvellous things collected in that room. Seeing a superb portrait of a woman upon the oaken wainscoting, Poussin exclaimed: "What a beautiful Giorgione!" "No," replied the old man; "you are looking at one of my first daubs." "_Tu-dieu!_ then I must be in the house of the god of painting!" said Poussin, ingenuously. The old man smiled like one long familiar with such praise. "Master Frenhofer!" said Porbus, "couldn't you send for a little of your fine Rhine wine for me?" "Two casks!" replied the old man; "one to pay for the pleasure which I enjoyed this morning in seeing your pretty sinner, and the other as a friendly gift." "Ah! if I were not always ill," rejoined Porbus, "and if you would let me see your _Belle Noiseuse_, I might be able to paint a picture, high and wide and deep, in which the figures would be life-size."