"Perhaps it merely arises from the fact that true friendship, real thorough companionship, is so rare among our sex," answered Julie, musingly. "We are just as loath to permit another to shine among ourselves as before the men. But something has just occurred to me; might not we take advantage of the occasion, and, as you recently proposed, take a look at Jansen's studio?" "And why not rather when he is there himself? He would undoubtedly be very happy--" "No, no!" interposed Julie, hastily, "I will not do that. I have invariably played such a silly part in studios--because it is impossible for me to bring myself to pay a trivial compliment--that I have sworn never again to visit an artist surrounded by his works. You know it is my Cordelia-like character--whenever my heart is full my mouth refuses to overflow." "Foolish woman!" laughed the artist, hastily wiping her brush and preparing herself to go out. "You of the public always imagine that we want to hear eulogies. When you lose the power of speech from admiration, and make the most foolish and enraptured faces, I like you a thousand times better." Angelica called the janitor, who was busily engaged in the yard brushing away the moths from an old piece of Gobelin tapestry that Rosenbusch had recently bought. While he went off to fetch the key to the studio, she whispered to her friend: "We will not go first into the saint-factory, but pass at once into the holy of holies! It is always painful to see how even such an artist--one of the few great ones--must use his art to gain bread. It is true, no human being can imagine why he really has to do it. He needs almost nothing for himself. And, since he stands quite alone in the world--to be sure, though, that needs yet to be proved--his saints must bring him in a great deal of money. What he does with it, whether he buries it as the wages of sin, walls it up, or speculates with it on the Bourse-- But here comes our old factotum with the key. Thank you, Fridolin. Here is something for your trouble. Drink a measure to the health of this beautiful lady. What, she pleases you too? To be sure you have had an opportunity to cultivate your taste, living as you do among artists." The flattered old man grinned, attempted to stammer a compliment, and opened the studio door. Angelica immediately ran up to the "Dancing Girl" and began to free her from the damp cloths wrapped about her.