I did not tell Stellov about my coming to Paris. I rang the doorbell and waited quietly. The person who opened the door for me was Stellov himself. At first he obviously did not recognize me. He looked at me carefully for a while, then a shout of surprise broke out and dragged me in. I was so happy that he was so enthusiastic that he sat. A lady, his wife, was doing needlework at the time. Stellov began to introduce me to her.

"Do you still have an impression?" he said to her, "He is the friend I often talk to you." Then he turned to me and said, "I don't know you will come to Paris, why don't you tell me? How long have you been here? How long are you going to stay here? If you come an hour earlier, we can have dinner together!"

He threw a lot of questions at me, and I was overwhelmed. He brought me a chair and let me sit on it to rest, then kept patting me gently, handing me a cigar, and a plate of cake and a bottle of wine for me to enjoy. He was busy and never stopped for a moment. He wanted to bring me whiskey, but he found that there was no more at home, and he was very sad. He also wanted to make a cup of hot coffee for me. In short, he did the best to treat me. Although he was sweating heavily, he was not tired, and his smile bloomed like a flower on his face.

"You haven't changed at all." I looked at him for a while and said with a smile.

His appearance is exactly the same as what I remember, and it still makes people laugh. He is not tall and slightly fat. He is actually only thirty years old, but he is already bald. His face is round, white and red, and his skin is very good. He also has a pair of round blue eyes, but because of myopia, he still has to wear glasses. His glasses are big and have a pair of gold edges. I doubt whether he has eyebrows, because the color is too light and difficult to identify. He will remind you of the kind-looking businessmen Rubins painted, who are slightly fat and have a nice smile.

I told him that I planned to live in Paris for the time being and that my residence was settled. He said I should discuss with him in advance so that he could help me find a place to live, save me a lot of furniture purchases, and move for me. His words were very sincere, all heartfelt words. It seemed that I was really not interested enough, and he actually lost an opportunity to serve me. During our conversation, Mrs. Stelloff did not interrupt, she just quietly repaired her socks. But she was not unwilling to listen to our conversation, and she would smile slightly whenever her husband spoke.

"You know, I'm married," he said suddenly, "You already know my wife, what do you think of her?"

He laughed, stared at her affectionately, and pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"How do you ask me to answer?" I smiled.

"Aren't you making things difficult for someone, Delk?" Mrs. Stelloff joined us with a smile.

"But don't you think she's so good? Dear old friend, what are you waiting for? Get married like me, don't waste your time. I'm the happiest man in the world! She just sat there and formed a beautiful picture! Look, is it very much like Chardon's painting? I've seen the most beautiful woman in the world, but none of them can compare to Mrs. Delk Stelloff."

"Stop talking nonsense, Delk, or I'll go out."

"My little baby," he said.

She blushed--it was completely unable to withstand the enthusiasm in his words. From the letters sent to me by Stellov, it was obvious that he loved his wife very much. Now I saw it with my own eyes and found that it was indeed like this. His eyes were tightly stuck to her and never left for a moment.

I just met her and knew very little about her, so it is hard to say whether she loved him very much. You know, my friend has never been very popular. But I can see that when Mrs. Stellov looked at her husband, she had a gentle and considerate look in her eyes. Although she acted very quietly and did not talk about love like her husband, she might really love him. She is not the kind of beautiful woman who is eye-catching, but she is beautiful, dignified and elegant, and has a very temperament. She is tall, dressed simply, and has a beautiful figure. Maybe the clothing merchants would not be interested in her body shape, but it is different for the sculptor. Her hair is brown, which makes her skin look fair. Her appearance is not as beautiful as she is. She is only one step away from a beauty, but because of this step, she has nothing to do with beauty.

.Stellove said that Chardin's paintings make sense. Her appearance reminds him of his masterpiece - the housewife in an apron and a hat. I can imagine her usual appearance from that painting - she is busy in the kitchen, handling some housework, and taking care of these daily trivial matters well, as if they have noble meanings. I think she is probably not a person with a good mind or humorous personality. She should be a serious, serious, steady woman, and this personality is also very attractive. I don't know why she married Delk Stellove. She and I are both British, but I can't see through her. I don't know her origin, her education, and her profession. She rarely speaks, but her voice is beautiful and her behavior is decent.

I asked Stellov how he was painting now.

"Drawing? My painting skills have improved now, much better than before."

We were in his studio as we said this, and I could see many works placed on the easels around me. He pointed to one of them, and although it was not finished, it was shocking enough.

In this painting, a group of peasants were chatting on the steps of the Roman cathedral, their expressions were very leisurely.

"Is this your recent painting?"

"Yes. There are models in Paris, too."

"He painted beautifully, didn't he?" said Mrs. Stelloff to me.

"My wife always thinks I am an amazing painter, so stupid," he said.

He laughed heartily, which showed that he was very happy. He stared at his painting, looking very focused. It was strange that he always pointed out various problems in other people's paintings, but he rarely showed his usual appreciation for his works.

"You have other paintings, so you might as well show them to him." She suggested.

"Does they want to see it?"

Delk Stellov said in a joke. Although he is always mocked by others, he likes to show his works to others, just like many people. He likes to be praised the most, and a word of praise can satisfy him. He brought me a picture of two Italian children with curly hair playing with glass balls in their hands. Judging from their clothes, their family background is not very good.

"What a fun kid." Mrs. Stelloff praised.

Then he showed me more paintings. After reading them, I found that his paintings are very different from the past. When in Rome, he always tended to paint those dreamy and fancy imaginations on the surface. Their beauty was only on the surface, very shallow, just like the decorations in the window. But now, his paintings have become very different. They are still fancy on the surface, but they are simple inside, and contain the author's sincere and sincere feelings. How contradictory should this be! Who can explain this transformation?

I suddenly asked him:

"I want to ask, have you ever met a painter? His name is Charles Strickland."

"You know him, too?" yelled Stelloff.

"This is a lack of education," his wife said immediately.

Stelloff laughed and said, "Poor baby." He walked over, took her hand, kissed her, and continued, "She hated him. It's a coincidence that you know Strickland too."

"What I hate the most is the rude people," said Mrs. Stelloff.

Delk smiled for a long time before explaining to me.

"Once, I drew a few paintings and invited him to see them. After he came, I showed him his paintings." At this time, Stelloff suddenly closed his mouth and hesitated for a long time. I guess he probably didn't know how to continue talking. "He looked at my paintings without saying a word. I thought to myself, he probably wanted to comment on the paintings after browsing them, so I finally told him that the paintings were all here. Unexpectedly, he said, 'I want to borrow twenty francs from you.'"

"Delke actually lends him money." Mrs. Stelloff was very angry.

"I was startled by his words, but I didn't refuse him. He put the money in his pocket, thanked me, nodded at me, and left."

Speaking of this, a surprised expression suddenly appeared on Delk Stelloff's usual silly face, which made people feel funny.

"If he criticized my paintings severely and said that I had poor painting skills, I wouldn't mind to be honest, but he did not criticize my paintings at all--say nothing."

"You are quite proud, tell this story whenever you meet, Delk," said his wife.

Unfortunately, in my opinion, anyone who hears this story first reacts to laughing, rather than being angry at Strickland's actions.

"I don't want to see this person anymore," said Mrs. Stelloff.

Streof laughed again, shrugged his shoulders and recovered from his previous state.

"To be honest, he is a very amazing painter."

"Strickland?" I shouted in surprise, "Are we talking about a person? Could it be someone of the same name?"

"He has a burly figure and a red beard. Charles Strickland, an Englishman."

"But I don't remember him having a beard. However, if he had a beard, it would be red. You know, he was still a newbie in painting five years ago."

"It's him, he's a great painter."

"This is absolutely impossible."

"You know, when did I missed someone?" Delk asked me back. "I can be sure that he is a rare genius, and I will never misread it. A hundred years later, his name will be remembered by many people, and if someone knows our names, it is because we have benefited from him."

I was both surprised and excited. At this moment, the scene of seeing him for the last time appeared in my mind.

"I want to see his works. Do you know where to see them?" I asked. "He was an unknown painter at the time. Where is he now? Where does he live?"

"He is not very famous now, and I guess none of his paintings can be sold. When people mention his paintings, they always look sarcastic. But I know very well that he is a great painter. People always laugh at great men, Manet and Corot, have been ridiculed. As for where he lives, I don't know, but I can take you to him. There is a café on the road of Clische, where he loves the coffee there, and it will pass every night. If you are convenient, we can set out tomorrow."

"I don't know if he would like to meet me. If he saw me, he might think of his past, a day he didn't want to mention, but I do want to meet him. Can I see his paintings from him?"

"I guess it won't work. He won't take the initiative to show you the paintings. There is a small painting shop that has a few paintings of him, and I happen to be familiar with him. If you want to meet him, be sure to call me; if you don't understand paintings, you probably won't understand much. I will explain it to you personally."

"Delke, I can't stand it," Mrs. Stelloff suddenly said, "He treats you very badly, why can you think you have nothing to see? You still talk about his paintings as if nothing had happened!" Then she said to me, "Do you know? Many people came here specifically to buy a painting of Delke. But what about Delke? He told them that it would be better to buy a painting of Delke, and he wanted Strickland to bring it up immediately. He was such a fool!"

"What do you think of Strickland's painting?" I said with a smile.

“It’s awful.”

"Ah, my dear, you know nothing about painting, too."

"Hmph, don't forget that your fellow Dutch people are very angry. They think you are telling jokes."

At this time, Delk Stelloff took off the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose and wiped them slowly. His face turned red with excitement.

"How could you think that beauty - the most precious wealth in the world - is no different from the gravel on the beach, and can be picked up by pedestrians who happen to pass by? Beauty is both wonderful and unique. Its creation cannot be achieved overnight. It requires fine crafting by artists. Yes, artists must withstand the test of their souls to create a rare treasure, which is beauty. Beauty is born in the world and will not be recognized by everyone. If you want to know it, you must go through the same adventure. If you want to taste a beautiful melody sung by others, you must have relevant knowledge, keen insight and rich imagination."

"Delke, I always think your paintings are beautiful. What's the reason for this? I just look at your paintings and I think they are amazing."

Straffeu was speechless for a while, and after a while, he finally spoke.

"It's too late, go and have a rest, my dear. My friend and I have been reunited after a long separation. Today we'll talk more. Let's go out for a walk and will be back soon."
Chapter completed!