"Ah! you lean to the realistic school? By Jove! you are right! That is true art! The day of idealism is past. It has been laid on the shelf with the paintings of Ingres and Delacroix. As Zola shows us in l'Assommoir, truth is only found in poverty and degradation. Realism has one advantage over idealism, more people understand it. For instance: I am sure M. David is a realist. Am I not right?" The banker stepped forward and said with great pomposity: "I am proud to do all I can to encourage art." "But, my dear sir, you should not!" interrupted Grenoble. "What we need nowadays is to have art discouraged! Just think of the thousands of dollars paid for paintings alone every year; and not one in a hundred is worth the canvas it is painted on. Nine-tenths of the painters decide on art for a profession, because it pays better than a clerkship." M. David subsided into a chair by Odette. He was a coarse, vulgar man, who had made several millions on Change. Originally from Bruges, he had bought a title of nobility, and was called Count David of Bruges--by his servants. He spoke little, thinking that his money spoke for him, and went through the world self-satisfied and contented, never noticing that he was a continual source of amusement to his acquaintances by his pretensions to nobility and his pompous vanity and conceit. He had once proposed to Odette, and since her return to Paris, had been very attentive to her, which irritated Grenoble beyond endurance; so that now, as he saw him sit down at her side, he followed him, and standing before him, said: "I must make a portrait bust of you some day. Do not look so horrified! I shall not charge you any thing for it." "I always pay promptly for every thing," answered the banker, very much annoyed. "Every one will tell you that Count David--" "Never makes a mistake in his accounts. I can well understand that!" Odette smiled. M. David growled to himself: "These artists are so insolent. M. Grenoble, I was speaking of you the other day to a friend, recommending you, in fact; but he seemed to think you were so little known--" "Alas!" modestly replied the famous sculptor, "it is not granted to all to have their names in every mouth, as yours is!" This little scene passed unnoticed. Odette, after receiving a glance from Claude, rose and went to her sister, leaving M. David a prey to melancholy. "Can you come with us?" Mme. Frager asked her sister. At this moment Laviguerie cried: "Checkmate!" and rose from the chess table. "Papa has finished," Odette added, taking Germaine's arm. "So you are free. Will you come?" Then she whispered: "By the way, how is your little Bessie?" "Very well, thank you." There was quite a little bustle and confusion as the large party took leave, M. David and several others saying good-night at the same time. There were only seven or eight guests left after they had disappeared. "Mme. Frager grows prettier every day," said M. Amable Bricourt, twisting his moustache.