One of the worst corners in all Paris is undoubtedly¹ that part of the rue² Mazarin which lies between the rue Guenegard and its junction³ with the rue de Seine, behind the palace of the Institute. The high gray walls of the college and of the library which Cardinal⁴ Mazarin presented to the city of Paris, and which the French Academy was in after days to inhabit, cast chill shadows over this angle of the street, where the sun seldom shines, and the north wind blows. The poor ruined widow came to live on the third floor of a house standing⁵ at this damp, dark, cold corner. Opposite, rose the Institute buildings, in which were the dens⁶ of ferocious⁷ animals known to the bourgeoisie under the name of artists — under that of tyro⁸, or rapin, in the studios. Into these dens they enter rapins, but they may come forth⁹ prix de Rome. The transformation¹⁰ does not take place without extraordinary uproar¹¹ and disturbance¹² at the time of year when the examinations are going on, and the competitors are shut up in their cells. To win a prize, they were obliged, within a given time, to make, if a sculptor¹³, a clay model; if a painter, a picture such as may be seen at the Ecole des Beaux–Arts; if a musician, a

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