His friends declared that it was a pleasure to see him look at anything. His glances seemed to fairly fasten upon the form, or rather to take it all in; all the muscles of his face became animated, and an intellectual tension curved his somewhat languid mouth. "Well," asked Jansen, at last, "how does it strike you? You know I can bear anything." "_Est, est, est!_ What is there to be said about it, especially? Naturally, it has gained and lost, as is always the case. The innocent audacity, the Pompeian _abandon_, that charmed me in the little sketch has, as a whole, suffered in the execution. You might do better, perhaps, to disguise your respect for Nature a little more. And, by-the-way--with all respect for this Nature--what sort of a model did you have? Of course it is very strongly idealized?" "Not in the least. A pure _facsimile_." "What? This neck and breast, these shoulders, arms--" "A conscientious copy, without any additions." Fat Rossel stood up. "I should have to see that to believe it," he said. "Look here, compared with this the conventionalities of Canova are mere wretched sugar-work. And that is what I was just going to say to you--the Grecian element that was in the sketch is gone. In its place there are a grace, an _esprit_, an elegance of form--and that, too, of a spontaneous sort. Don't you find it so, my dear baron? You are a lucky man, Hans, to have such a being run into your hands. In what garden did this little slip grow?" Jansen shrugged his shoulders. "Come, out with it, old Jealousy! You need not lend her to me for any length of time--only for one forenoon. I happen to have a composition in mind, for which this little one--" "You will have to run after luck more persistently than the law of your laziness permits," added Jansen, quietly. "I myself didn't catch it by the forelock this time without some trouble; and, although this forelock is very thick, and shone before me in the most beautiful red--" "Red hair? Now no dodges will help you, Jansen, you must hand her over to me. Something of this sort has floated before my fancy for weeks past--something of the wood-nymph, water-nymph nature." "Hand her over! But it isn't in my power. Friend Felix happened to drop in, the second time she was with me. She took this so to heart that, since then, she has disappeared, leaving no traces behind her." "Is there virtue under this beautiful exterior? So much the better. Nature will enjoy her natural bounds all the longer, and so virtue will also tend to the benefit of art. Tell me where she lives--the rest shall be my care." He noted down the address, which was written in charcoal on the wall near the window, and then advanced toward the large, veiled group in the middle of the studio. "How far have you got with the Eve?" "Unfortunately, I can't show her to you to-day," replied Jansen, quickly. "She is just at a stage--"