It is my portrait, said her daughter, as Longueville drew near. This gentleman has been sketching me.
Sketching you, dearest? murmured her mother. Was nt it rather sudden?
Very suddenvery abrupt! exclaimed the young girl with a laugh.
Considering all that, it s very good, said Longueville, offering his picture to the elder lady, who took it and began to examine it. I cant tell you how much I thank you, he said to his model.
It s very well for you to thank me now, she replied. You really had no right to begin.
The temptation was so great.
We should resist temptation. And you should have asked my leave.
I was afraid you would refuse it; and you stood there, just in my line of vision.
You should have asked me to get out of it.
I should have been very sorry. Besides, it would have been extremely rude.
The young girl looked at him a moment.
Yes, I think it would. But what you have done is ruder.
It is a hard case! said Longueville. What could I have done, then, decently?
It s a beautiful drawing, murmured the elder lady, handing the thing back to Longueville. Her daughter, meanwhile, had not even glanced at it.
You might have waited till I should go away, this argumentative young person continued.
Longueville shook his head.
I never lose opportunities!
You might have sketched me afterwards, from memory.
Longueville looked at her, smiling.
Judge how much better my memory will be now!
She also smiled a little, but instantly became serious.
For myself, it s an episode I shall try to forget. I dont like the part I have played in it.
May you never play a less becoming one! cried Longueville. I hope that your mother, at least, will accept a memento of the occasion. And he turned again with his sketch to her companion, who had been listening to the girls conversation with this enterprising stranger, and looking from one to the other with an air of earnest confusion. Wont you do me the honor of keeping my sketch? he said. I think it really looks like your daughter.
Oh, thank you, thank you; I hardly dare, murmured the lady, with a deprecating gesture.
It will serve as a kind of amends for the liberty I have taken, Longueville added; and he began to remove the drawing from its paper block.
It makes it worse for you to give it to us, said the young girl.
Oh, my dear, I am sure it s lovely! exclaimed her mother. It s wonderfully like you.
I think that also makes it worse!
Longueville was at last nettled. The young ladys perversity was perhaps not exactly malignant; but it was certainly ungracious. She seemed to desire to present herself as a beautiful tormentress.
How does it make it worse? he asked, with a frown.
He believed she was clever, and she was certainly ready. Now, however, she reflected a moment before answering.
That you should give us your sketch, she said at last.
It was to your mother I offered it, Longueville observed.
But this observation, the fruit of his irritation, appeared to have no effect upon the young girl.
Is nt it what painters call a study? she went on. A study is of use to the painter himself. Your justification would be that you should keep your sketch, and that it might be of use to you.
My daughter is a study, sir, you will say, said the elder lady in a little, light, conciliating voice, and graciously accepting the drawing again.
I will admit, said Longueville, that I am very inconsistent. Set it down to my esteem, madam, he added, looking at the mother.
That s for you, mamma, said his model, disengaging her arm from her mothers hand and turning away.
The mamma stood looking at the sketch with a smile which seemed to express a tender desire to reconcile all accidents.
It s extremely beautiful, she murmured, and if you insist on my taking it
I shall regard it as a great honor.
Very well, then; with many thanks, I will keep it. She looked at the young man a moment, while her daughter walked away. Longueville thought her a delightful little person; she struck him as a sort of transfigured Quakeressa mystic with a practical side. I am sure you think she s a strange girl, she said.
She is extremely pretty.
She is very clever, said the mother.
She is wonderfully graceful.
Ah, but she s good! cried the old lady.
I am sure she comes honestly by that, said Longueville, expressively, while his companion, returning his salutation with a certain scrupulous grace of her own, hurried after her daughter.
Longueville remained there staring at the view but not especially seeing it. He felt as if he had at once enjoyed and lost an opportunity. After a while he tried to make a sketch of the old beggar-woman who sat there in a sort of palsied immobility, like a rickety statue at a church-door. But his attempt to reproduce her features was not gratifying, and he suddenly laid down his brush. She was not pretty enoughshe had a bad profile.
CHAPTER II
Two months later Bernard Longueville was at Venice, still under the impression that he was leaving Italy. He was not a man who made plans and held to them. He made them, indeedfew men made morebut he made them as a basis for variation. He had gone to Venice to spend a fortnight, and his fortnight had taken the form of eight enchanting weeks. He had still a sort of conviction that he was carrying out his plans; for it must be confessed that where his pleasure was concerned he had considerable skill in accommodating his theory to his practice. His enjoyment of Venice was extreme, but he was roused from it by a summons he was indisposed to resist. This consisted of a letter from an intimate friend who was living in Germanya friend whose name was Gordon Wright. He had been spending the winter in Dresden, but his letter bore the date of Baden-Baden. As it was not long, I may give it entire.
I wish very much that you would come to this place. I think you have been here before, so that you know how pretty it is, and how amusing. I shall probably be here the rest of the summer. There are some people I know and whom I want you to know. Be so good as to arrive. Then I will thank you properly for your various Italian rhapsodies. I cant reply on the same scaleI have nt the time. Do you know what I am doing? I am making love. I find it a most absorbing occupation. That is literally why I have not written to you before. I have been making love ever since the last of May. It takes an immense amount of time, and everything else has got terribly behindhand. I dont mean to say that the experiment itself has gone on very fast; but I am trying to push it forward. I have nt yet had time to test its success; but in this I want your help. You know we great physicists never make an experiment without an assistanta humble individual who burns his fingers and stains his clothes in the cause of science, but whose interest in the problem is only indirect. I want you to be my assistant, and I will guarantee that your burns and stains shall not be dangerous. She is an extremely interesting girl, and I really want you to see herI want to know what you think of her. She wants to know you, too, for I have talked a good deal about you. There you have it, if gratified vanity will help you on the way. Seriously, this is a real request. I want your opinion, your impression. I want to see how she will affect you. I dont say I ask for your advice; that, of course, you will not undertake to give. But I desire a definition, a characterization; you know you toss off those things. I dont see why I should nt tell you all thisI have always told you everything. I have never pretended to know anything about women, but I have always supposed that you knew everything. You certainly have always had the tone of that sort of omniscience. So come here as soon as possible and let me see that you are not a humbug. She s a very handsome girl.