"Good-day," he calls out, without raising his head, without knowing for certain who has come in, and goes on with the engraving he has in hand.

I settle down at the end of the room, on the sofa with the faded cover, and, until Lampron deigns to grant me audience, I am free to sleep, or smoke, or turn over the wonderful drawings that lean against the walls.

Among them are treasures beyond price; for Lampron is a genius whose only mistake is to live and act with modesty, so that as yet people only say that he has "immense talent." No painter or engraver of repute--and he is both--has served a more conscientious apprenticeship, or sets greater store on thoroughness in his art.

His drawing is correct beyond reproach--a little stiff, like the early painters.

You can guess from his works his partiality for the old masters--Perugino, Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Memling, Holbein--who, though not the masters in fashion, will always be masters in vigor of outline, directness, in simple grace, and genuine feeling.