"Madame, you are a Frenchwoman--therefore an artist. Tell me what you think of this!"
In his excitement he spoke in English, but madame understood his actions if not his words. Full of curiosity she bent over the boy's shoulder, peered into the sketch, then threw up her hands in genuine admiration.
'Ah, but he was an artist, was monsieur! A true artist! It was delicious--ravishing!' She turned from one of her customers to the other. 'If monsieur would but put his name to this picture she would never again have the table washed; and in time to come, when he had made his big success--'
"Good, madame! Good! When he has made his big success he will come back here and laugh and cry over this, and say, 'God be with the youth of us!' as we say in my old country. Come, boy, put your name to it!"
[Illustration: "WHY, BOY, THIS IS CLEVER--CLEVER--CLEVER!"]
The boy glanced up at him. His face was aglow, there were tears of emotion in his eyes.
"I can say nothing," he cried, "but that I--I have never been so happy in my life." And, bending over his sketch, he wrote across the marble-topped table a single word--the word 'Max.'
The Frenchwoman bent over his shoulder. "Max!" she murmured. "A pretty name!"
The Irishman looked as well. "Max! So that's what they call you? Max! Well, let's drink to it!" He filled the three glasses and raised his own.
"To the name of Max!" he said. "May it be known from here to the back of God's speed!" He swallowed the brandy and laid down his glass.
"To M. Max!" The Frenchwoman smiled. "A great future, monsieur!" She sipped and bowed.
Of the three, the boy alone sat motionless. His heart felt strangely full, the tears in his eyes were dangerously near to falling.
"Monsieur, I--I beg you to excuse me! My heart is very full of your kindness."
The boy laughed with a catch in his breath, then he drank a little with nervous haste, coughing as he laid his glass down. The _cognac_ of the Maison Gustav was of a fiery nature.
The Irishman laughed. "Ah, another peep behind the mask! You may be an artist, young man--- you may have advanced ideas--but, for all that, you're only out of the nursery! It's for me to make a man of you, I see. Come, madame, the _addition_, if you please! We must be going."