4. An Artist’s Eye

4 An Artist's Eye Stanley froze quickly. His face went slack. His eyes focused on Mona Lisa's smile. The girls stared, their mouths hanging open. One of them imitated the sound of Stanley's momentary burst of laughter. They giggled and whispered to each other. Suddenly their teacher appeared behind them. She was a tall spidery woman in a long black dress. She said something quick and stern in French. The girls looked at the floor and mumbled apologetically. One of the girls went across the gallery to the Mona Lisa. The girl with blue eyes stayed where she was, pulled out a sketchbook, peered up at Stanley intently, and started drawing.

Stanley had never seen a person concentrate so hard. As she worked with her pencil and eraser, feelings blew across the girl's face like seasons: She was disappointed, then frustrated, and finally pleased. Stanley was very, very curious: What did her drawing look like? Did it look like him?

After nearly an hour, the girl paused. She held the book at arm's length, judging her work. Stanley's curiosity got the best of him, and he peeled his head forward to see. The girl looked up, and he immediately snapped back into place. Her big blue eyes narrowed. She took a step forward, studying him more closely than ever. Stanley didn't dare move. The Mona Lisa was smiling as if she knew what a fool he'd been. Then the strict teacher's voice barked something, and the girl snapped to attention. She fumbled to put away her pencil and sketchbook. A guard by the door made an announcement, and people started exiting the gallery. The museum was closing! The girl crept close to Stanley's painting. "Au revoir," she whispered, and rushed out after her classmates. As she did, her sketchbook, which she'd shoved into a pocket of her satchel, fell out and onto the floor. Stanley almost called out after her, but he caught himself. Soon the gallery was empty.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Stanley slipped from his frame and dropped to the floor. Creeping over to the girl's sketchbook, he picked it up, opened it, and found page after page of sketches—one painting after another, drawn in fine detail. There was even one of the Mona Lisa. Finally Stanley came to the girl's latest sketch. Stanley was impressed. It looked just like him, except with a beard and a floppy hat. The girl with big blue eyes was very, very talented.

He turned back to the front cover. It read: Le livre du Etoile Dubois L'école d'Art 22 rue d'Excaver Montmartre, Paris

Her name is Etoile, Stanley realized. I have to return this to her! Stanley looked up at the Mona Lisa. No one had tried to steal her... yet. She was safe for the night. Surely it would be okay for Stanley to stretch his legs after hanging on the wall all day— as long as he stayed in disguise and was back at his aunt's in time for dinner? Stanley crept through the museum, moving silently along the walls and floors. He slipped behind one guard, and then another. He passed paintings by artists with names like Degas and Caravaggio. Stanley slithered down a staircase. He passed the pale bust of a woman whose arms had broken off; a sign said she was called Venus de Milo. Finally Stanley found his way back to the front of the museum. The last of the visitors were leaving, and he caught a glimpse of a girl in a school uniform and a dark ponytail walking out the front doors—Etoile! Stanley slipped into the coatroom. In a corner he found a large cardboard box labeled Perdus et Trouvés. Inside was a jumble of items, including