“Ah! you have pictures, indeed, uncle!” he said, examining the one that had caught his eye. “Yes,” answered the old man. “They came to us from the Descoings, who bought them during the Revolution, when the convents and churches in Berry were dismantled.” Joseph was not listening; he was lost in admiration of the pictures. “Magnificent!” he cried. “Oh! what painting! that fellow didn’t spoil his canvas. Dear, dear! better and better, as it is at Nicolet’s--” “There are seven or eight very large ones up in the garret, which were kept on account of the frames,” said Gilet. “Let me see them!” cried the artist; and Max took him upstairs. Joseph came down wildly enthusiastic. Max whispered a word to the Rabouilleuse, who took the old man into the embrasure of a window, where Joseph heard her say in a low voice, but still so that he could hear the words:-- “Your nephew is a painter; you don’t care for those pictures; be kind, and give them to him.” “It seems,” said Jean-Jacques, leaning on Flore’s arm to reach the place were Joseph was standing in ecstasy before an Albano, “--it seems that you are a painter--” “Only a ‘rapin,’” said Joseph. “What may that be?” asked Flore. “A beginner,” replied Joseph. “Well,” continued Jean-Jacques, “if these pictures can be of any use to you in your business, I give them to you,--but without the frames. Oh! the frames are gilt, and besides, they are very funny; I will put--” “Well done, uncle!” cried Joseph, enchanted; “I’ll make you copies of the same dimensions, which you can put into the frames.” “But that will take your time, and you will want canvas and colors,” said Flore. “You will have to spend money. Come, Pere Rouget, offer your nephew a hundred francs for each copy; here are twenty-seven pictures, and I think there are eleven very big ones in the garret which ought to cost double,--call the whole four thousand francs. Oh, yes,” she went on, turning to Joseph, “your uncle can well afford to pay you four thousand francs for making the copies, since he keeps the frames--but bless me! you’ll want frames; and they say frames cost more than pictures; there’s more gold on them. Answer, monsieur,” she continued, shaking the old man’s arm. “Hein? it isn’t dear; your nephew will take four thousand francs for new pictures in the place of the old ones. It is,” she whispered in his ear, “a very good way to give him four thousand francs; he doesn’t look to me very flush--” “Well, nephew, I will pay you four thousand francs for the copies--” “No, no!” said the honest Joseph; “four thousand francs and the pictures, that’s too much; the pictures, don’t you see, are valuable--” “Accept, simpleton!” said Flore; “he is your uncle, you know.” “Very good, I accept,” said Joseph, bewildered by the luck that had befallen him; for he had recognized a Perugino.