llent  you grooo soon; and those who know smile.

    quot;Oer!quot; cried trange speaker, quot;t a t carried a of life ;

    quot;Nevert; ;ture of yours is ings of t rascal Rubens, ains of Flemisorrents of red  of color. You, at least ials in art.quot;

    the young man roused himself from his deep musings.

    quot; is sublime!quot; ;tlety of imagination about t Mary and t can not be found among Italian masters; I do not knoation.quot;

    quot;Did t little malapert come ; asked Porbus of the older man.

    quot;Alas! master, pardon my boldness,quot; cried te, and ted to ;I am unknoinct, and but lately come to ty--tain-;

    quot;Set to ; said Porbus,  of red c of paper.

    tc Mary line for line.

    quot;A; exclaimed t;Your name?quot; he added.

    te quot;Nicolas Poussinquot; beloch.

    quot;Not bad t for a beginning,quot; said trange speaker,  alk of art in your presence. I do not blame you for admiring Porbuss saint. In terpiece, and tiated into t mysteries of art can discover comings. But it is o give you to understand it, so I le it needs to complete ture. You must be all eyes, all attention, for it may be t sucte.quot;

    Porbus  in searcte and brustle old man turned back ient energy, seized tte, covered  Porbus o cook a ance. ed beard suddenly bristled--a menacing movement t expressed ttered bet;ts are only fit to fling out of togeting!  ;

    ip of t pigments, making t of tte several times more quickly t of a cataves on t;O