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invite her to sit for me!〃



〃'At lastat last'?〃 I repeated; in much amazement。  〃Do you mean

that she has never done so yet?〃



〃I have not really hadaa sitting;〃 said Theobald; speaking very

slowly。  〃I have taken notes; you know; I have got my grand

fundamental impression。  That's the great thing!  But I have not

actually had her as a model; posed and draped and lighted; before my

easel。〃



What had become for the moment of my perception and my tact I am at a

loss to say; in their absence I was unable to repress a headlong

exclamation。  I was destined to regret it。  We had stopped at a

turning; beneath a lamp。  〃My poor friend;〃 I exclaimed; laying my

hand on his shoulder; 〃you have DAWDLED!  She's an old; old woman

for a Madonna!〃



It was as if I had brutally struck him; I shall never forget the

long; slow; almost ghastly look of pain; with which he answered me。



〃Dawdled?old; old?〃 he stammered。  〃Are you joking?〃



〃Why; my dear fellow; I suppose you don't take her for a woman of

twenty?〃



He drew a long breath and leaned against a house; looking at me with

questioning; protesting; reproachful eyes。  At last; starting

forward; and grasping my arm〃Answer me solemnly:  does she seem to

you truly old?  Is she wrinkled; is she faded; am I blind?〃



Then at last I understood the immensity of his illusion how; one by

one; the noiseless years had ebbed away and left him brooding in

charmed inaction; for ever preparing for a work for ever deferred。

It seemed to me almost a kindness now to tell him the plain truth。

〃I should be sorry to say you are blind;〃 I answered; 〃but I think

you are deceived。  You have lost time in effortless contemplation。

Your friend was once young and fresh and virginal; but; I protest;

that was some years ago。  Still; she has de beaux restes。  By all

means make her sit for you!〃 I broke down; his face was too horribly

reproachful。



He took off his hat and stood passing his handkerchief mechanically

over his forehead。  〃De beaux restes?  I thank you for sparing me the

plain English。  I must make up my Madonna out of de beaux restes!

What a masterpiece she will be!  Oldold!  Oldold!〃 he murmured。



〃Never mind her age;〃 I cried; revolted at what I had done; 〃never

mind my impression of her!  You have your memory; your notes; your

genius。  Finish your picture in a month。  I pronounce it beforehand a

masterpiece; and I hereby offer you for it any sum you may choose to

ask。〃



He stared; but he seemed scarcely to understand me。  〃Oldold!〃 he

kept stupidly repeating。  〃If she is old; what am I?  If her beauty

has faded; wherewhere is my strength?  Has life been a dream?  Have

I worshipped too longhave I loved too well?〃  The charm; in truth;

was broken。  That the chord of illusion should have snapped at my

light accidental touch showed how it had been weakened by excessive

tension。  The poor fellow's sense of wasted time; of vanished

opportunity; seemed to roll in upon his soul in waves of darkness。

He suddenly dropped his head and burst into tears。



I led him homeward with all possible tenderness; but I attempted

neither to check his grief; to restore his equanimity; nor to unsay

the hard truth。  When we reached my hotel I tried to induce him to

come so。



〃We will drink a glass of wine;〃 I said; smiling; 〃to the completion

of the Madonna。〃



With a violent effort he held up his head; mused for a moment with a

formidably sombre frown; and then giving me his hand; 〃I will finish

it;〃 he cried; 〃in a month!  No; in a fortnight!  After all; I have

it HERE!〃  And he tapped his forehead。  〃Of course she's old!  She

can afford to have it said of hera woman who has made twenty years

pass like a twelvemonth!  Oldold!  Why; sir; she shall be eternal!〃



I wished to see him safely to his own door; but he waved me back and

walked away with an air of resolution; whistling and swinging his

cane。  I waited a moment; and then followed him at a distance; and

saw him proceed to cross the Santa Trinita Bridge。  When he reached

the middle he suddenly paused; as if his strength had deserted him;

and leaned upon the parapet gazing over into the river。  I was

careful to keep him in sight; I confess that I passed ten very

nervous minutes。  He recovered himself at last; and went his way;

slowly and with hanging head。



That I had really startled poor Theobald into a bolder use of his

long…garnered stores of knowledge and taste; into the vulgar effort

and hazard of production; seemed at first reason enough for his

continued silence and absence; but as day followed day without his

either calling or sending me a line; and without my meeting him in

his customary haunts; in the galleries; in the Chapel at San Lorenzo;

or strolling between the Arno side and the great hedge…screen of

verdure which; along the drive of the Cascine; throws the fair

occupants of barouche and phaeton into such becoming reliefas for

more than a week I got neither tidings nor sight of him; I began to

fear that I had fatally offended him; and that; instead of giving a

wholesome impetus to his talent; I had brutally paralysed it。  I had

a wretched suspicion that I had made him ill。  My stay at Florence

was drawing to a close; and it was important that; before resuming my

journey; I should assure myself of the truth。  Theobald; to the last;

had kept his lodging a mystery; and I was altogether at a loss where

to look for him。  The simplest course was to make inquiry of the

beauty of the Mercato Vecchio; and I confess that unsatisfied

curiosity as to the lady herself counselled it as well。  Perhaps I

had done her injustice; and she was as immortally fresh and fair as

be conceived her。  I was; at any rate; anxious to behold once more

the ripe enchantress who had made twenty years pass as a twelvemonth。

I repaired accordingly; one morning; to her abode; climbed the

interminable staircase; and reached her door。  It stood ajar; and as

I hesitated whether to enter; a little serving…maid came clattering

out with an empty kettle; as if she had just performed some savoury

errand。  The inner door; too; was open; so I crossed the little

vestibule and entered the room in which I had formerly been received。

It had not its evening aspect。  The table; or one end of it; was

spread for a late breakfast; and before it sat a gentlemanan

individual; at least; of the male sexdoing execution upon a

beefsteak and onions; and a bottle of wine。  At his elbow; in

friendly proximity; was placed the lady of the house。  Her attitude;

as I entered; was not that of an enchantress。  With one hand she held

in her lap a plate of smoking maccaroni; with the other she had

lifted high in air one of the pendulous filaments of this succulent

compound; and was in the act of slipping it gently down her throat。

On the uncovered end of the table; facing her companion; were ranged

half a dozen small statuettes; of some snuff… coloured substance

resembling terra…cotta。  He; brandishing his knife with ardour; was

apparently descanting on their merits。



Evidently I darkened the door。  My hostess dropped liner maccaroni

into her mouth; and rose hastily with a harsh exclamation and a

flushed face。  I immediately perceived that the Signora Serafina's

secret was even better worth knowing than I had supposed; and that

the way to learn it was to take it for granted。  I summoned my best

Italian; I smiled and bowed and apologised for my intrusion; and in a

moment; whether or no I had dispelled the lady's irritation; I had at

least stimulated her prudence。  I was welcome; she said; I must take

a seat。  This was another friend of hersalso an artist; she

declared with a smile which was almost amiable。  Her companion wiped

his moustache and bowed with great civility。  I saw at a glance that

he was equal to the situation。  He was presumably the author of the

statuettes on the table; and he knew a money…spending forestiere when

he saw one。  He was a small wiry man; with a clever; impudent;

tossed…up nose; a sharp little black eye; and waxed ends to his

moustache。  On the side of his head he wore jauntily a little crimson

velvet smoking…cap; and I observed that his feet were encased in

brilliant slippers。  On Serafina's remarking with dignity that I was

the friend of Mr。 Theobald; he broke out into that fantastic French

of which certain Italians are so insistently lavish; and declared

with fervour that Mr。 Theobald was a magnificent genius。



〃I am sure I don't know;〃 I answered with a shrug。  〃If you are in a

position to affirm it; you have the advantage of me。  I have seen

nothing from his hand but the bambino yonder; which certainly is

fine。〃



He declared that the bambino was a masterpiece; a pure Corregio。  It

was only a pity; he added with a knowing laugh; that the sketch had

not been made on some good bit of honeycombed old panel。  The stately

Serafina hereupon protested 

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