Hearing those words Monsieur Vervelle frowned. The worthy bourgeois drew after him another complication of vegetables in the persons of his wife and daughter. The wife had a fine veneer of mahogany on her face, and in figure she resembled a cocoa-nut, surmounted by a head and tied in around the waist. She pivoted on her legs, which were tap-rooted, and her gown was yellow with black stripes. She proudly exhibited unutterable mittens on a puffy pair of hands; the plumes of a first-class funeral floated on an over-flowing bonnet; laces adorned her shoulders, as round behind as they were before; consequently, the spherical form of the cocoa-nut was perfect. Her feet, of a kind that painters call abatis, rose above the varnished leather of the shoes in a swelling that was some inches high. How the feet were ever got into the shoes, no one knows. Following these vegetable parents was a young asparagus, who presented a tiny head with smoothly banded hair of the yellow-carroty tone that a Roman adores, long, stringy arms, a fairly white skin with reddish spots upon it, large innocent eyes, and white lashes, scarcely any brows, a leghorn bonnet bound with white satin and adorned with two honest bows of the same satin, hands virtuously red, and the feet of her mother. The faces of these three beings wore, as they looked round the studio, an air of happiness which bespoke in them a respectable enthusiasm for Art. "So it is you, monsieur, who are going to take our likenesses?" said the father, assuming a jaunty air. "Yes, monsieur," replied Grassou. "Vervelle, he has the cross!" whispered the wife to the husband while the painter's back was turned. "Should I be likely to have our portraits painted by an artist who wasn't decorated?" returned the former bottle-dealer. Elie Magus here bowed to the Vervelle family and went away. Grassou accompanied him to the landing. "There's no one but you who would fish up such whales." "One hundred thousand francs of 'dot'!" "Yes, but what a family!" "Three hundred thousand francs of expectations, a house in the rue Boucherat, and a country-house at Ville d'Avray!" "Bottles and corks! bottles and corks!" said the painter; "they set my teeth on edge." "Safe from want for the rest of your days," said Elie Magus as he departed. That idea entered the head of Pierre Grassou as the daylight had burst into his garret that morning. While he posed the father of the young person, he thought the bottle-dealer had a good countenance, and he admired the face full of violent tones. The mother and daughter hovered about the easel, marvelling at all his preparations; they evidently thought him a demigod. This visible admiration pleased Fougeres. The golden calf threw upon the family its fantastic reflections. "You must earn lots of money; but of course you don't spend it as you get it," said the mother.