As for his monkey, Jacko II.,[1] a bear's skin folded in four would do famously for him.
The move was effected that same evening, and Tony fell asleep in a pleasantly warm atmosphere, delighted with his happy idea.
On waking next morning he felt puzzled as to where he was for a few moments, but soon recognising the studio, his eyes turned by instinct towards his easel.
Jacko II. was seated on the back of a chair, just at the height and within reach of the picture. For a moment Tony imagined that the intelligent creature, who had lived so long amongst pictures, had at length become a connoisseur, and that, as he seemed to inspect the canvas very closely, he was lost in admiration of the beauty of its finish and details. But he soon found out his mistake. Jacko adored white lead, and as the picture of Coligny was nearly finished, and Tony had put in all his high lights with this pigment, Jacko was busy passing his tongue over every spot where he could find it.
Tony sprang from his bed, and Jacko from his chair, but it was too late. Every part of the canvas on which there had been the smallest touch of white lead was licked bare, and the Admiral himself had been, one might almost say, swallowed whole!
Tony began by flying into a great rage with Jacko, but, on second thoughts, reflecting that it was very much his own fault for not tying the monkey up, he went in search of a chain and a staple.
He fixed the staple firmly into the wall, riveted one end of the chain to it, and having thus prepared for the coming night, he fell to work on his Coligny, and succeeded in pretty well re-hanging him by five o'clock.
Then, feeling he had done a good day's work, he went out for a walk, dined at a restaurant, went to see a play, and got home soon after eleven.
- ↑ To distinguish him from Jacko I., Décamps' monkey.
