Little French Masterpieces. Honore de Balzac

      "Oh! leave her with me for a moment," said the old painter, "and you may compare her to my Catherine. Yes, I consent."

      There was love in Frenhofer's cry, too. He seemed to be acting the part of a coquette for his counterfeit woman, and to enjoy in advance the triumph which the beauty of his creation would certainly win over that of a girl of flesh and blood.

      "Do not let him retract!" cried Porbus, bringing his hand down on Poussin's shoulder. "The fruits of love soon pass away, those of art are immortal."