Good looks are worthless if you don't have a lot of money in your pocket. Love is the right of the rich, it is better not to involve the unemployed. It is better not to be a poet and not to involve the poor and the unemployed. The poor should be realists instead of poets. It is better to arrange a permanent income than to dream of an unrealistic income. The words so far are very true in the way of life today, but Hugh Erskine never understood these truths. Poor Hughie. If we are to judge by reason, we must admit that it is of no such importance. In life, he is nice and aloof, never said a bad word. But with curly brown hair, sparkling face and gray eyes, she looks really good. She is loved by men as well as girls. To be honest, he excels in every way except money making. He inherited from his father a cavalry sword and a fifteen-volume history of the Peninsular War. The sword is held by Hughie above the mirror, the books are among his Rough's Guide and Bailey's Magazine, and the old lady spends the day with an uncle.

On donations of two hundred pounds annually. Hughie didn't spend time lying down, he tried everything.

For six months he traveled to the stock exchange; But in the kingdom of bulls and bears can butterflies benefit? He did the tea business for a little more than six months, but is it easy to understand which one is Peko tea and which one is Souchong? He then became a dry sherry seller. But the sherry began to be excessively dry, so the red light on the business soon went off. Eventually he turned into a cheerful unemployed youth.

Then he made the situation worse. He fell in love. The girl he loves is Merton. His father is a retired colonel. He was in India for a long time. From there he brought bad temper and indigestion forever. Laura loves him so much, she even agrees to kiss Laura's shoelaces. They are the most beautiful pair of all the lovers in London. The Colonel is also very fond of Hughie, but refuses to hear of any engagement.

"I'll consider it the day I make ten thousand pounds," he said sometimes, as Hughie's bright face darkened, and he hurried to Laura for comfort.

The Martons' home is in Holland Park. One morning he met his beloved Alan Trevor on his way. Trevor is a painter. Painting often these days, but Trevor is no longer ten. He is an artist. In person he is not attractive at all. A yellow face, red beard with jagged cheeks. But on top of that he is a true master, people wait to buy his pictures. At first she is attracted to Hughie because of his good looks. Artists should be acquainted only with foolish and beautiful people, he sometimes said, to whom the artistic eye is satisfied and the ardent mind soothed by the sight and talk of them. Flowers and beauties rule the world, I mean, the world They should be governed by their own hands. However, after getting to know him better, he took a liking to Hughie. His smile is for happiness and reckless behavior. As a result, he gave her permanent permission to come to the studio whenever she wanted.

Arriving at the studio, Hughie saw that Trevor had almost finished a life-size painting of a beggar. The beggar sits on a raised platform in a corner of the studio, slightly removed from the magnificent painting. A skinny old man with a face wrinkled like parchment paper with such a helpless expression that one feels pity. On his shoulders is a brown cloak; He is leaning on an old walking stick in one hand, holding a worn hat in front of him for alms.

A wonderful model! Hughie whispered as he shook hands with his friend.

Gorgeous model? "I should think so," Trevor chuckled. Such a beggar is not found everyday. Friends, luckily I have discovered this! Rembrandt would have carved one if he had one!

Poor old man! Said Hughie, what pity he feels! However, artists have a different style. You must say that face is the reason for his good fortune?

Of course, replied Trevor, you can't expect a beggar's smiling face. Can you tell me?

How much does a model get for sitting? Hughie asked as he sat comfortably on a sofa.

One shilling per hour.

And how much will you get for the picture, Alan?

Oh, I'll get two thousand for that.

pounds?

the guinea Painters, poets and doctors always get a guinea.

I think the models should get a share of the guineas, Hughie smiled, they work as hard as you do.

Stupid! The hard work of painting and being a model is never the same! It is easy for you to make such comments, but one thing you know for sure, the work of art is sometimes equal to the work of a laborer. But no more babbling, I'm too busy. Sit quietly and smoke a cigarette.

After a while the servant came in and said he wanted to speak to Trevor, the frame maker.

"Don't go, Hughie," she said as she stormed out of the studio, "I'll be right back."

The beggar lay down on a wooden bench at the back to take some rest in the absence of the preceptor. The poor man's face was so pitiful that Hughie could not help but feel pity. Reaching into his pocket, he found a gold and a few copper coins. Oh poor thing, she thought she needed the money more than me, but she won't be able to get into a car because of this donation. She went to the other side of the studio and threw the gold coin into the hands of the beggar.

The beggar sat up startled, a faint smile on her dry lips. Thank you, sir, said she, thank you very much.

Hughie left as Trevor returned, his eyes a little red at the thought of what he had done a while ago. Spent the day with Lara, played sweet grumbles for wasting gold coins, and walked home.

At eleven o'clock at best he went to the Palet Club. Trevor then sits alone in the smoking room drinking a Hawk and Selzer.

Alan, did you finish the picture? He wanted to know how to catch a cigarette.

Not only is it over, but the framing is over, replied Trevor, while you're just sitting around. That old model is now a fan of yours. You have to tell him who you are and where you live. How is your income and your expectations in the coming days -

Alan said Hughie, I might go home and see, he's waiting for me. But you must be joking. Oh poor thing! I would be happy if I could do anything for him. Alas, let no man suffer such a plight. I have a lot of old clothes at home, do you think they will be of any use to him? His clothes are almost tattered.

But she looks great in those rags, said Trevor. I wouldn't paint her in a frock coat. What you call rags, I call love. What is poverty in your eyes, is the subject of painting in my eyes. Anyway, I will tell the old man about your old clothes.

Allan, said Hugh gravely, you have nothing to say in the hearts of painters.

An artist's heart is in his head, not in his chest, replied Trevor, and it is not his job to dream up the world through renovation, but to realize the reality of the world. Everyone has a different perspective on their work. That's all, now tell me how your Lara is. The old model is very curious about the girl.


And anyway, surely you didn't tell him about Lara? Hughie asked.

Of course I said. He is now a hard-hearted colonel.

Lovely Laura, even knows about those ten thousand pounds.

You told that old beggar all my private things? Hughie's face turned bright red with anger.

Listen, laughed Trevor, what you call an old beggar is actually one of the richest men in all of Europe. Tomorrow he can laugh and buy the city of London. He has a house in every capital of Europe, he eats and drinks on a plate of pure gold, he can stop the Russian war at will.

What do you mean by these words? said Hughie.

"That's easy," replied Trevor. The old man you saw in the studio today is Baron Hosberg. A close friend of mine, who buys all my pictures and stuff, gave me permission to paint her as Viviri a month ago. What do you call it? Millionaire game. But I have to admit that she looks gorgeous in ripped clothes. I must have bought that old robe in Spain.

Baron Hosberg! said Hughie. Oh God! I gave him a gold coin! Sighing, he sat down on a chair.

Donated a gold coin! Trevor shouted, then burst into laughter. Friend, you will never get that gold coin back. His business is always with other people's money. Hughie you shouldn't have made a fool of me like that, Alan complained bitterly.


Well, listen to me from the beginning, said Trevor, I didn't think you'd get up to begging like that. It was one thing to kiss a beautiful model, but to give a gold coin to someone so ugly, oh God, no! Moreover, today I could not behave normally with anyone due to the completion of the film; After you came, I could not understand whether Hosberg would take the matter differently or not. You saw that he was not wearing his own clothes.

What a face he thought of me! said Hughie.

not at all He was in a very good mood after you left, Khukkhuk

Laughing and rubbing hands. I did not understand then why the old man was so curious about you, but now it is clear. He will mint the gold coin in your name, give the profit every six months, and tell the funny story again and again after dinner.

I'm a wretch, said Hughie. Best to go home now and lie down, and don't tell this story to anyone else, Alan. Then I can't show my face.

stupid Don't go away as your ultimate humanity has been revealed through this incident. Light another cigarette and you can tell Laura's story as much as you like.

Hughie, however, did not delay any longer, and set off for home in a very unhappy mood, by which time Alan Trevor had burst into laughter again.

The next morning at the breakfast table a card was brought to him, on which was written, Monsieur Gustave Nadia, on behalf of Baron Hasberg. The baron probably wants me to apologize for yesterday's mistake, Hughie thought to himself, then told him to fetch the guest


A little later, an old gentleman, with golden glasses and a head full of curly hair, came into the house. The gentleman said with a slight French accent, "Are you Mr. Erskine?"

Hughie nodded in agreement. Baron Hosberg sent me. His Excellency the Baron-

"I'm really sorry to him about what happened yesterday," Hughie began.

His Highness the Baron, smilingly said to the old gentleman, I send you this letter by my hand, holding out an envelope with a cover.

On the outside of the envelope was written, Hugh Erskine and Laura Merton's wedding present from an old beggar, and inside was a check for ten thousand pounds.

Alan Trevor is silent at the wedding, and Baron Hosburgh makes a speech at the breakfast table:

It's hard to find a millionaire role model, said Allon, but for God's sake, it's even harder to find a millionaire role model!