“You hate me,” Josef shouted. “Jonathan hates me. Your wife can’t stand me. You think I’d marry into such a family? You’re all out of your minds.” He sprang up, furious, confused, sputtering with outrage—but surprised with himself. Underneath it all, a part of him thought coldly: a guaranteed place to live and work; a woman built-in when he wanted one! They’d have to buy his art supplies, too, or he wouldn’t do it. Astounded by these thoughts, he yelled, “No, no. I won’t consider it under any circumstances. No. My answer is no.”

“These things are delicate. Think about it,” Elgren said. “I told Bianka this would be your first reaction—”

“First and final and last,” Josef yelled. He stood up and tramped about the room.

“Or we confiscate your paintings and supplies and have you thrown into jail,” Jonathan said, mildly.

Josef stopped in his tracks. “That’s blackmail! Besides, I’d make a miserable husband—”

“You’d have to help us in the fields in the morning or do the morning chores. The rest of the time you could paint,” Elgren said. “Your own painting made me change my opinion of you. You’ve worked at it steadily now. It consumes you. This is good. It means that eventually you will sell your paintings. A good artist in the family—” He paused and added, “You could do pictures for my relatives, too. That is a fine cultural thing to do.”

“You’d never get out of debtors’ prison,” Jonathan said, “But you can see our point. We have an investment in you. It’s only fair that we come to some understanding. And you’d have this room for your studio. I have the feeling that if your painting is so important, you’d be making a pretty fair bargain.”

Josef stared; Jonathan was shrewder than he’d given him credit for.

Elgren stood up soberly, again with that unfamiliar formality and said, “This is how things are done. We’ve told you our proposition. Think about it. We’ll be back tomorrow for your answer.”

Josef didn’t answer. It was Bianka, the bitch, who was responsible for his getting caught and dragged back in the first place. All she had to do now was tell her father about their romps. Josef was sure Elgren didn’t know—though Jonathan might. Elgren thought that his daughter was a prize; not that there was anything really wrong with her, Josef thought hastily. Only that he wasn’t about to marry anybody.