The son of Lieutenant-General Baron D---- came one day to Dantan, begging him to make a bust of his father. “I will not hide from you,” he said to the artist, “that you will encounter an almost insurmountable difficulty in performing your task. Not only would the general never consent to sit to you, but you cannot even be introduced to him at home. As my father has been ill for many years, he sees no other persons than his servants, and he keeps almost always alone. Hence, you will have to manage to catch a glimpse at him unawares, but I do not know how.” “Does your father never go out?” the sculptor asked. “Oh yes, sir; every afternoon at four my father takes the ‘bus and goes to read the papers at a room in the Place de la Madeleine, after which he comes back and shuts himself up again.” “I require no more,” the artist said. “I will begin making my observations to-day, and set to work to-morrow.” In fact, at four o’clock precisely, Dantan posted himself before a house forming the corner of the Boulevards and the Rue Louis-le-Grand, and soon saw the general come out and walk to an omnibus. The sculptor followed his model and entered the vehicle with him, but, unfortunately, the only two seats vacant were on the same side, and the artist could only make profile studies, being very careful not to attract attention. At last the ‘bus stopped before the Madeleine church; pursuer and pursued went in together to the same reading-room, where each took up his favorite paper, and was soon lost in the perusal. Dantan had taken a seat opposite the general, and, while apparently absorbed in a leader, took stealthy glances at his model. All was going on favorably, and the artist continued his studies quietly for some moments, until the general, already surprised that his fellow-passenger should come to the same reading-room, caught his eye fixed upon himself. Annoyed by this impertinent curiosity, for which he could assign no reason, he attempted to foil it by forming a rampart of his enormous paper. The face of the old baron disappeared, but the top of his head was still visible, and Dantan would have been able to continue his task satisfactorily, had it not been for a frightful silk cap he wore. Many a conjurer, even the most famous, would have been checked by such a difficulty; but Dantan did not long rack his brains, which renders his trick only the more striking. He went up to the lady at the counter, spoke with her for a few moments, and then quietly returned to his post of observation. It is necessary to state that the reading-room, heated by a large stove, was already quite warm enough; but suddenly an insupportable degree of heat filled the room, and drops of perspiration stood on the foreheads of several persons.