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mystery of successful portrait…painting in a few words。〃
〃May I beg； then；〃 said he； 〃that you will depart from the usual
practice in my case； and draw me with all my defects； exactly as I am？ The
fact is；〃 he went on； after a moment's pause； 〃the likeness you are now
preparing to take is intended for my mother。 my roving disposition makes
me a great anxiety to her； and she parted from me this last time very sadly
and unwillingly。 I don't know how the idea came into my head； but it
struck me this morning that I could not better employ the time while I was
delayed here on shore than by getting my likeness done to send to her as a
keepsake。 She has no portrait of me since I was a child； and she is sure to
value a drawing of me more than anything else I could send to her。 I only
trouble you with this explanation to prove that I am really sincere in my
wish to be drawn unflatteringly； exactly as I am。〃
Secretly respecting and admiring him for what he had just said； I
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promised that his directions should be implicitly followed； and began to
work immediately。 Before I had pursued my occupation for ten minutes；
the conversation began to flag； and the usual obstacle to my success with a
sitter gradually set itself up between us。 Quite unconsciously； of course；
Mr。 Faulkner stiffened his neck； shut his mouth； and contracted his
eyebrowsevidently under the impression that he was facilitating the
process of taking his portrait by making his face as like a lifeless mask as
possible。 All traces of his natural animated expression were fast
disappearing； and he was beginning to change into a heavy and rather
melancholy…looking man。
This complete alteration was of no great consequence so long as I was
only engaged in drawing the outline of his face and the general form of his
features。 I accordingly worked on doggedly for more than an hour； then
left off to point my chalks again； and to give my sitter a few minutes' rest。
Thus far the likeness had not suffered through Mr。 Faulkner's unfortunate
notion of the right way of sitting for his portrait； but the time of difficulty；
as I well knew； was to come。 It was impossible for me to think of putting
any expression into the drawing unless I could contrive some means； when
he resumed his chair； of making him look like himself again。 〃I will talk to
him about foreign parts；〃 thought I； 〃and try if I can't make him forget that
he is sitting for his picture in that way。〃
While I was pointing my chalks； Mr。 Faulkner was walking up and
down the room。 He chanced to see the portfolio I had brought with me
leaning against the wall； and asked if there were any sketches in it。 I told
him there were a few which I had made during my recent stay in Paris。 〃In
Paris？〃 he repeated； with a look of interest； 〃may I see them？〃
I gave him the permission he asked as a matter of course。 Sitting down；
he took the portfolio on his knee； and began to look through it。 He turned
over the first five sketches rapidly enough； but when he came to the sixth I
saw his face flush directly； and observed that he took the drawing out of
the portfolio； carried it to the window； and remained silently absorbed in
the contemplation of it for full five minutes。 After that he turned round to
me； and asked very anxiously if I had any objection to parting with that
sketch。
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It was the least interesting drawing of the collectionmerely a view in
one of the streets running by the backs of the houses in the Palais Royal。
Some four or five of these houses were comprised in the view； which was
of no particular use to me in any way； and which was too valueless； as a
work of art； for me to think of selling it。 I begged his acceptance of it at
once。 He thanked me quite warmly； and then； seeing that I looked a little
surprised at the odd selection he had made from my sketches； laughingly
asked me if I could guess why he had been so anxious to become
possessed of the view which I had given him。
〃Probably；〃 I answered； 〃there is some remarkable historical
association connected with that street at the back of the Palais Royal； of
which I am ignorant。〃
〃No；〃 said Mr。 Faulkner； 〃at least none that /I/ know of。 The only
association connected with the place in /my/ mind is a purely personal
association。 Look at this house in your drawingthe house with the water…
pipe running down it from top to bottom。 I once passed a night therea
night I shall never forget to the day of my death。 I have had some
awkward travelling adventures in my time； but /that/ adventure！ Well；
never mind； suppose we begin the sitting。 I make but a bad return for your
kindness in giving me the sketch by thus wasting your time in mere talk。〃
〃Come！ come！〃 thought I； as he went back to the sitter's chair； 〃I shall
see your natural expression on your face if I can only get you to talk about
that adventure。〃 It was easy enough to lead him in the right direction。 At
the first hint from me； he returned to the subject of the house in the back
street。 Without； I hope； showing any undue curiosity； I contrived to let him
see that I felt a deep interest in everything he now said。 After two or three
preliminary hesitations； he at last； to my great joy； fairly started on the
narrative of his adventure。 In the interest of his subject he soon completely
forgot that he was sitting for his portrait；the very expression that I
wanted came over his face；and my drawing proceeded toward
completion； in the right direction； and to the best purpose。 At every fresh
touch I felt more and more certain that I was now getting the better of my
grand difficulty； and I enjoyed the additional gratification of having my
work lightened by the recital of a true story； which possessed； in my
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estimation； all the excitement of the most exciting romance。
This； as I recollect it； is how Mr。 Faulkner told me his adventure。
THE TRAVELLER'S STORY OF A TERRIBLY
STRANGE BED
Shortly after my education at college was finished； I happened to be
staying at Paris with an English friend。 We were both young men then； and
lived； I am afraid； rather a wild life； in the delightful city of our sojourn。
One night we were idling about the neighbourhood of the Palais Royal；
doubtful to what amusement we should next betake ourselves。 My friend
proposed a visit to Frascati's； but his suggestion was not to my taste。 I
knew Frascati's； as the French saying is； by heart； had lost and won plenty
of five…franc pieces there； merely for amusement's sake； until it was
amusement no longer； and was thoroughly tired； in fact； of all the ghastly
respectabilities of such a social anomaly as a respectable gambling…house。
〃For Heaven's sake；〃 said I to my friend； 〃let us go somewhere where we
can see a little genuine； blackguard； poverty…stricken gaming with no false
gingerbread glitter thrown over it all。 Let us get away from fashionable
Frascati's； to a house where they don't mind letting in a man with a ragged
coat； or a man with no coat； ragged or otherwise。〃 〃Very well；〃 said my
friend； 〃we needn't go out of the Palais Royal to find the sort of company
you want。 Here's the place just before us； as blackguard a place； by all
report； as you could possibly wish to see。〃 In another minute we arrived at
the door and entered the house； the back of which you have drawn in your
sketch。
When we got upstairs； and had left our hats and sticks with the
doorkeeper； we were admitted into the chief gambling…room。 We did not
find many people assembled there。 But； few as the men were who looked
up at us on our entrance； they were all typeslamentably true types of
their respective classes。
We had come to see blackguards； but these men were something worse。
There is a comic