We set to work at once. I labored at her portrait with pleasure; but sometimes a cruel memory awoke in my heart; I remembered the delightful sittings which my wife had given me. What a joy it was to me to paint her! Ah! her smile was very sweet too, and her eyes were filled with love for me. When such ideas assailed me, a very perceptible change took place in my expression, no doubt, for my model said to me for the second time: “What on earth is the matter with you, Monsieur Dalbreuse? Don’t you feel well?” “Yes, mademoiselle.” “You assumed such a melancholy expression all of a sudden! If it is a bore to you to paint me, monsieur, there is no reason why you should go on.” “No, mademoiselle, on the contrary it is a great pleasure to me.” “Oh! you say that in a very peculiar tone.” I did not reply but went on with my work. Caroline became very serious and did not say another word. “Would you mind smiling a little, mademoiselle? You do not usually have such a serious expression.” “It’s because you say nothing to amuse me, and you yourself have sometimes an expression--oh! mon Dieu! what an agreeable man you are!” “I may have memories which are not very cheerful; and what I am doing at this moment reminds me----” “Of what?” “Of a person whose portrait I once painted.” “A woman?” “Yes.” “A woman whom you loved, I suppose?” “Oh, yes!” Caroline changed color and rose abruptly, saying: “That’s enough for to-day; I won’t pose any more.” “But, mademoiselle, we have just begun.” “I am very sorry, but I am tired; besides, I don’t care any longer about having my portrait painted!” “What new whim is this?” “Well, monsieur, if I choose to have whims----” “I am very sorry too, but I have begun your portrait, and I want to finish it.” “I tell you that I don’t want a portrait; you would be obliged to keep it, and I should like to know what good it would do you? A man doesn’t wear a portrait. Oh, yes! in a locket sometimes, I believe.--Well, well! now you are assuming your solemn expression again. Well, here I am, monsieur, here I am, don’t be angry; great heaven! I will pose as long as you wish.” She resumed her seat. I glanced at her; she had hastily wiped her eyes, and yet I saw tears still glistening in them. What an extraordinary woman! What a combination of coquetry and sensibility! What on earth was going on in her heart? I was sometimes afraid to guess. We worked for a long time, but I made little progress with my task, for I was absent-minded; the past and the present engrossed me in turn. Caroline herself was thoughtful. Sometimes she talked to me about Paris, and I divined that she was anxious to learn what my business was. I saw no reason why I should not tell her that I was an advocate. She seemed pleased to learn that I practised that profession. Why did she take so much interest in my concerns? I had not addressed a word of love to her.