point of being married. Miriam listened to this with participation; then she said: "Ah, then, do bring your—what do they call her in English? I'm always afraid of saying something improper—your future. I'll send you a box, under the circumstances; you'd like that better." She added that if he were to paint her he would have to see her often on the stage, wouldn't he? to profit by the optique de la scène (what did they call that in English?) studying her and fixing his impression. Before he had time to respond to this proposition she asked him if it disgusted him to hear her speak like that, as if she were always posing and thinking about herself, living only to be looked at, thrusting forward her person. She often got sick of doing so, already; but a la guerre comme à la guerre.
"That's the fine artistic nature, you see—a sort of divine disgust breaking out in her," Nash expounded.
"If you want to paint me at all, of course. I'm struck with the way I'm taking that for granted," Miriam continued. "When Mr. Nash spoke of it to me I jumped at the idea. I remembered our meeting in Paris and the kind things you said to me. But no doubt one oughtn't to jump at ideas when they represent serious sacrifices on the part of others."
"Doesn't she speak well!" Nash exclaimed to Nick. "Oh, she'll go far!"
"It's a great privilege to me to paint you; what title in the world have I to pretend to such a model?" Nick replied to Miriam. "The sacrifice is yours—a sacrifice of time and good-nature and credulity. You come in your beauty and your genius to this shabby place where I've nothing to show,
