Anyone will tell you where to find the ----. It has one of my
paintings over the bar: "Straight-jacket" (or some such name) "the
Marquis of ----'s horse, who won last time the race was run. I was in
America in 1910. You know Cornelius Vanderbilt perhaps? I painted some of
his horses. We were the best of friends, Vanderbilt and I. I got handsome
prices, you understand, three, five, six thousand pounds. When I left, he
gave me this card--I have it here somewhere--" he again stopped, sought
in his breastpocket a moment, and produced a visiting card. On one side I
read the name "Cornelius Vanderbilt"--on the other, in bold
handwriting--"to my very dear friend Count F.A. de Bragard" and a date.
"He hated to have me go."
I was walking in a dream.
"Have you your sketch-books and paints with you? What a pity. I am always
intending to send to England for mine, but you know--one can't paint in a
place like this. It is impossible--all this dirt and these filthy
people--it stinks! Ugh!"
I forced myself to say: "How did you happen to come here?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "How indeed, you may well ask! I cannot tell
you. It must have been some hideous mistake. As soon as I got here I
spoke to the Directeur and to the Surveillant.
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