We sat in thestudio, and he waved his hand to an unfinished picture on an easel. I gave alittle start. He was painting a group of Italian peasants, in the costume ofthe Campagna, lounging on the steps of a Roman church.

"Is thatwhat you're doing now?" I asked.

"Yes. Ican get my models here just as well as in Rome. "

"Don'tyou think it's very beautiful?" said Mrs. Stroeve.

"Thisfoolish wife of mine thinks I'm a great artist, " said he.

Hisapologetic laugh did not disguise the pleasure that he felt. His eyes lingeredon his picture. It was strange that his critical sense, so accurate andunconventional when he dealt with the work of others, should be satisfied inhimself with what was hackneyed and vulgar beyond belief.

"Showhim some more of your pictures, " she said.

"ShallI?"

Though he hadsuffered so much from the ridicule of his friends, Dirk Stroeve, eager forpraise and naively self-satisfied, could never resist displaying his work. Hebrought out a picture of two curly-headed Italian urchins playing marbles.

"Aren'tthey sweet?" said Mrs. Stroeve.

我们当时坐在他的画室里；他朝着画架上一幅没有完成的作品挥了挥手。我吃了一惊。他画的是一群意大利农民，身穿罗马近郊服装，正在一个罗马大教堂的台阶上闲荡。

“这就是你现在画的画吗？”

“是啊。我在这里也能象在罗马一样找到模特儿。”

“你不认为他画得很美吗？”施特略夫太太问道。

“我这个傻妻子总认为我是个大画家，”他说。

他的表示歉意的笑声掩盖不住内心的喜悦。他的目光仍然滞留在自己的画上。在评论别人的绘画时他的眼光是那样准确，不落俗套，但是对他自己的那些平凡陈腐、俗不可耐的画却那样自鸣得意，真是一桩怪事。

“让他看看你别的画。”她说。

“人家要看吗？”

虽然戴尔克·施特略夫不断受到朋友们的嘲笑，却从来克制不了自己，总是要把自己的画拿给人家看，满心希望听到别人的夸奖，而且他的虚荣心很容易得到满足。他先给我看了一张两个鬈头发的意大利穷孩子玩玻璃球的画。

“多好玩儿的两个孩子，”施特略夫太太称赞说。