A
newspaper man who arrived went into raptures over the 'Picnic,' and
coined the expression 'a very Parisian style of painting.' It was
repeated, and people no longer passed without declaring that the
picture was 'very Parisian' indeed.
All those bent shoulders, all those admiring remarks rising from a sea
of spines, ended by exasperating Claude; and seized with a longing to
see the faces of the folk who created success, he manoeuvred in such a
way as to lean his back against the handrail hard by. From that point,
he had the public in front of him in the grey light filtering through
the linen awning which kept the centre of the gallery in shade; whilst
the brighter light, gliding from the edges of the blinds, illumined
the paintings on the walls with a white flow, in which the gilding of
the frames acquired a warm sunshiny tint. Claude at once recognised
the people who had formerly derided him--if these were not the same,
they were at least their relatives--serious, however, and enraptured,
their appearance greatly improved by their respectful attention.
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