_Oiel!_ what practice! what perseverance! what patience! _Avec permission_, M'sieur..." And with this she sidled up to Mueller's elbow, leaving Monsieur Tapotte thunderstruck at her audacity.
Then for a moment she stood silent; but during that moment the eager, apologetic smile vanished suddenly out of her face, and was succeeded by an expression of blank disappointment.
"_Tiens_!" she said bluntly.

"I don't see one bit of likeness." I turned hot from head to foot, but Mueller's serene effrontery was equal to the occasion.
"I dare say not, Madame," he replied, coolly.

"I dare say not.

This portrait is not intended to be like." Madame Tapotte's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously.
"_Comment_!" she exclaimed.
"I should be extremely sorry," continued Mueller, loftily, "and his lordship would be extremely sorry, if there were too much resemblance." "But a--a likeness--it seems to me, should at all events be--like," stammered Madame Tapotte, utterly bewildered.
"And if M'sieur is to paint my wife," added Monsieur Tapotte, who had by this time joined the group at the easel, "I--I..._Dame_! it must be a good deal more like than this." Mueller drew himself up with an air of great dignity.
"Sir," he said, "if Madame does me the honor to sit to me for her portrait--for her _own_ portrait, observe--I flatter myself the resemblance will be overwhelming.

But you must permit me to inform you that Milord Smithfield is not sitting for his own portrait." The Tapottes looked at each other in a state bordering on stupefaction.
"His lordship," continued Mueller, "is sitting for the portrait of one of his illustrious ancestors--a nobleman of the period of Queen Elizabeth." Tapotte _mari_ scratched his head, and smiled feebly.
"_Parbleu_!" said he, "_mais c'est bien drole, ca_!" The artist shrugged his shoulders.
"It so happens," said he, "that his lordship's gallery at Smithfield Castle has unhappily been more than half destroyed by fire.