"--"Did you ever see Cezanne?" I
ventured.--"Bless you, yes, scores of times," he answered almost
pityingly.--"What did he look like?" I asked, with great
curiosity.--"Look like? His appearance, you mean?" Count Bragard seemed
at a loss. "Why he was not extraordinary looking. I don't know how you
could describe him. Very difficult in English. But you know a phrase we
have in French, '_l'air pesant_'; I don't think there's anything in
English for it; _il avait l'air pesant_, Cezanne, if you know what I
mean.
"I should work, I should not waste my time," the Count would say almost
weepingly. "But it's no use, my things aren't here. And I'm getting old
too; couldn't concentrate in this stinking hole of a place, you know."
I did some hasty drawings of Monsieur Pet-airs washing and rubbing his
bald head with a great towel in the dawn. The R.A. caught me in the act
and came over shortly after, saying, "Let me see them." In some
perturbation (the subject being a particular friend of his) I showed one
drawing. "Very good, in fact, excellent," the R.A. smiled whimsically.
"You have a real talent for caricature, Mr. Cummings, and you should
exercise it. You really got Peters. Poor Peters, he's a fine fellow, you
know; but this business of living in the muck and filth, _c'est
malheureux_.
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