Bingle to her own
exclusive dressmaker. Napoleon came. Mr. Bingle watched the newspapers
for an account of the suicide of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, but no
such event was reported. No doubt the approach of spring deterred
them. They would probably wait until cold weather set in again.
In order to encourage the struggling Rousseau, he bought, through
Rouquin, a rather startling painting by the young artist, in which a
herd of red cattle partook placidly of the skyline and a pallid
windmill dominated the foreground. Later on, an expert informed him
that the red cattle were rocks on the edge of a pool and the windmill
was a lady making ready to dive into the water for a lonely swim. The
painting was signed, but the name was not Rousseau. It was Fauret.
Rouquin explained the discrepancy. He said that young Rousseau
preferred to paint under an assumed name--in truth, it was his
maternal grandmother's name--rather than to have his canvases confused
with those of the academic, old-school Barbizon painter. He was above
trading on a name that was fast becoming obsolete!
Then there came the astonishing disappearance of young Frederick.
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