and every path was smoothed before me...

There were four drawing halls in the academy. In one of them the "model" would sit for three quarters of an hour and rest a quarter hour; in the second the pose was changed every quarter hour... I would pay the fee or not pay it, and work when I pleased and where I pleased, with none to hinder me... And when Madame Caterina came to trust me, she granted me the authority to choose the model's pose, to keep an eye on things, and to see to the maintenance of order within the hall — gently, so as not to disturb my fellow students. Sometimes I would go to extremes in the use of my powers, making the work easy for the young ladies rather than the young men, favoring them with the preferred places, right as to distance and the fall of the light, and defying the young men's glances and their anger — had not Gibran and I agreed that they were tiresome bores!

The hours of attendance at the academy fell into three periods, ranging between nine in the morning and nine at night; Gibran

preferred the last period, though he was not one to frequent the Académie Colarossi often.

It was my habit, as I have said, after finishing my drawing practice, to turn aside to the Café du Dôme, where I would find the companions waiting for me. I would distribute among them whatever of my drawings might please them... then before long I would plunge with them into a torrent of opinions — scientific, artistic, political, commercial — a drop from every sea: "How can sugar be extracted from coal... How did Gauguin and Van Gogh manage to change the course of art... How did the aviator Blériot fly over the Channel!... And how England is no longer an island!... And how the German people are energetic, but the Emperor Wilhelm is frightening... And how the French see their defeats as if they were victories!!!" — When I grew tired of all that, I would incline my head toward Miss Léa, touch her beautiful hair with my hand, and ask her: "Whose is this hair?" and she would answer: "À Léa" — and I would correct her answer: "Say rather only 'liyya' — then you will be speaking

Arabic!!" Then there would begin between us an exchange of anec-dotes and droll tales... It pleased her to tell comic stories about the Jews, and I would sometimes whisper in her ear: "And what if Abraham was not truthful in his promises?" and she would answer, laughing: "If Abraham was not truthful, everything 'goes topsy-turvy'"... and she would add, after a moment's reflection: "And the truth is, he was not truthful... what do you say?!.."

And she would draw me on with innocent inquiry and beg me for more stories of priests: "I implore you, my friend... just one more little story!!" And when she grew impatient with my dawdling and delay, she would set about easing my task, saying: "Once there was a respectable priest..." And I had learned the craft of Scheherazade to perfection, and had trained myself in improvisa-tion, so I would finish the story by the easiest road

and we would laugh and guffaw together, and our clamor would rise until the rest of the companions envied us...

... That was with Léa. As for her elder sister Suzanne,