the mysterious portrait-第6节

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heart　and　soul　in　their　work。　Without　the　slightest　ceremony；　he　made

the　sitter　lift　her　head；　which　finally　began　to　express　utter

weariness。



〃Enough　for　the　first　time；〃　said　the　lady。



〃A　little　more；〃　said　the　artist；　forgetting　himself。



〃No；　it　is　time　to　stop。　Lise；　three　o'clock！〃　said　the　lady；　taking

out　a　tiny　watch　which　hung　by　a　gold　chain　from　her　girdle。　〃How　late

it　is！〃



〃Only　a　minute；〃　said　Tchartkoff　innocently；　with　the　pleading　voice

of　a　child。



But　the　lady　appeared　to　be　not　at　all　inclined　to　yield　to　his

artistic　demands　on　this　occasion；　she　promised；　however；　to　sit

longer　the　next　time。



〃It　is　vexatious；　all　the　same；〃　thought　Tchartkoff　to　himself：　〃I　had

just　got　my　hand　in；〃　and　he　remembered　no　one　had　interrupted　him　or

stopped　him　when　he　was　at　work　in　his　studio　on　Vasilievsky　Ostroff。

Nikita　sat　motionless　in　one　place。　You　might　even　paint　him　as　long

as　you　pleased；　he　even　went　to　sleep　in　the　attitude　prescribed　him。

Feeling　dissatisfied；　he　laid　his　brush　and　palette　on　a　chair；　and

paused　in　irritation　before　the　picture。



The　woman　of　the　world's　compliments　awoke　him　from　his　reverie。　He

flew　to　the　door　to　show　them　out：　on　the　stairs　he　received　an

invitation　to　dine　with　them　the　following　week；　and　returned　with　a

cheerful　face　to　his　apartments。　The　aristocratic　lady　had　completely

charmed　him。　Up　to　that　time　he　had　looked　upon　such　beings　as

unapproachable；　born　solely　to　ride　in　magnificent　carriages；　with

liveried　footmen　and　stylish　coachmen；　and　to　cast　indifferent　glances

on　the　poor　man　travelling　on　foot　in　a　cheap　cloak。　And　now；　all　of　a

sudden；　one　of　these　very　beings　had　entered　his　room；　he　was　painting

her　portrait；　was　invited　to　dinner　at　an　aristocratic　house。　An

unusual　feeling　of　pleasure　took　possession　of　him：　he　was　completely

intoxicated；　and　rewarded　himself　with　a　splendid　dinner；　an　evening

at　the　theatre；　and　a　drive　through　the　city　in　a　carriage；　without

any　necessity　whatever。



But　meanwhile　his　ordinary　work　did　not　fall　in　with　his　mood　at　all。

He　did　nothing　but　wait　for　the　moment　when　the　bell　should　ring。　At

last　the　aristocratic　lady　arrived　with　her　pale　daughter。　He　seated

them；　drew　forward　the　canvas　with　skill；　and　some　efforts　of

fashionable　airs；　and　began　to　paint。　The　sunny　day　and　bright　light

aided　him　not　a　little：　he　saw　in　his　dainty　sitter　much　which；　caught

and　committed　to　canvas；　would　give　great　value　to　the　portrait。　He

perceived　that　he　might　accomplish　something　good　if　he　could

reproduce；　with　accuracy；　all　that　nature　then　offered　to　his　eyes。

His　heart　began　to　beat　faster　as　he　felt　that　he　was　expressing

something　which　others　had　not　even　seen　as　yet。　His　work　engrossed

him　completely：　he　was　wholly　taken　up　with　it；　and　again　forgot　the

aristocratic　origin　of　the　sitter。　With　heaving　breast　he　saw　the

delicate　features　and　the　almost　transparent　body　of　the　fair　maiden

grow　beneath　his　hand。　He　had　caught　every　shade；　the　slight

sallowness；　the　almost　imperceptible　blue　tinge　under　the　eyesand

was　already　preparing　to　put　in　the　tiny　mole　on　the　brow；　when　he

suddenly　heard　the　mother's　voice　behind　him。



〃Ah！　why　do　you　paint　that？　it　is　not　necessary：　and　you　have　made　it

here；　in　several　places；　rather　yellow；　and　here；　quite　so；　like　dark

spots。〃



The　artist　undertook　to　explain　that　the　spots　and　yellow　tinge　would

turn　out　well；　that　they　brought　out　the　delicate　and　pleasing　tones

of　the　face。　He　was　informed　that　they　did　not　bring　out　tones；　and

would　not　turn　out　well　at　all。　It　was　explained　to　him　that　just

to…day　Lise　did　not　feel　quite　well；　that　she　never　was　sallow；　and

that　her　face　was　distinguished　for　its　fresh　colouring。



Sadly　he　began　to　erase　what　his　brush　had　put　upon　the　canvas。　Many　a

nearly　imperceptible　feature　disappeared；　and　with　it　vanished　too　a

portion　of　the　resemblance。　He　began　indifferently　to　impart　to　the

picture　that　commonplace　colouring　which　can　be　painted　mechanically；

and　which　lends　to　a　face；　even　when　taken　from　nature；　the　sort　of

cold　ideality　observable　on　school　programmes。　But　the　lady　was

satisfied　when　the　objectionable　tone　was　quite　banished。　She　merely

expressed　surprise　that　the　work　lasted　so　long；　and　added　that　she

had　heard　that　he　finished　a　portrait　completely　in　two　sittings。　The

artist　could　not　think　of　any　answer　to　this。　The　ladies　rose；　and

prepared　to　depart。　He　laid　aside　his　brush；　escorted　them　to　the

door；　and　then　stood　disconsolate　for　a　long　while　in　one　spot　before

the　portrait。



He　gazed　stupidly　at　it；　and　meanwhile　there　floated　before　his　mind's

eye　those　delicate　features；　those　shades；　and　airy　tints　which　he　had

copied；　and　which　his　brush　had　annihilated。　Engrossed　with　them；　he

put　the　portrait　on　one　side　and　hunted　up　a　head　of　Psyche　which　he

had　some　time　before　thrown　on　canvas　in　a　sketchy　manner。　It　was　a

pretty　little　face；　well　painted；　but　entirely　ideal；　and　having　cold；

regular　features　not　lit　up　by　life。　For　lack　of　occupation；　he　now

began　to　tone　it　up；　imparting　to　it　all　he　had　taken　note　of　in　his

aristocratic　sitter。　Those　features；　shadows；　tints；　which　he　had

noted；　made　their　appearance　here　in　the　purified　form　in　which　they

appear　when　the　painter；　after　closely　observing　nature；　subordinates

himself　to　her；　and　produces　a　creation　equal　to　her　own。



Psyche　began　to　live：　and　the　scarcely　dawning　thought　began；　little

by　little；　to　clothe　itself　in　a　visible　form。　The　type　of　face　of　the

fashionable　young　lady　was　unconsciously　transferred　to　Psyche；　yet

nevertheless　she　had　an　expression　of　her　own　which　gave　the　picture

claims　to　be　considered　in　truth　an　original　creation。　Tchartkoff　gave

himself　up　entirely　to　his　work。　For　several　days　he　was　engrossed　by

it　alone；　and　the　ladies　surprised　him　at　it　on　their　arrival。　He　had

not　time　to　remove　the　picture　from　the　easel。　Both　ladies　uttered　a

cry　of　amazement；　and　clasped　their　hands。



〃Lise；　Lise！　Ah；　how　like！　Superb；　superb！　What　a　happy　thought；　too；

to　drape　her　in　a　Greek　costume！　Ah；　what　a　surprise！〃



The　artist　could　not　see　his　way　to　disabuse　the　ladies　of　their

error。　Shamefacedly；　with　drooping　head；　he　murmured；　〃This　is

Psyche。〃



〃In　the　character　of　Psyche？　Charming！〃　said　the　mother；　smiling；　upon

which　the　daughter　smiled　too。　〃Confess；　Lise；　it　pleases　you　to　be

painted　in　the　character　of　Psyche　better　than　any　other　way？　What　a

sweet　idea！　But　what　treatment！　It　is　Correggio　himself。　I　must　say

that；　although　I　had　read　and　heard　about　you；　I　did　not　know　you　had

so　much　talent。　You　positively　must　paint　me　too。〃　Evidently　the　lady

wanted　to　be　portrayed　as　some　kind　of　Psyche　too。



〃What　am　I　to　do　with　them？〃　thought　the　artist。　〃If　they　will　have　it

so；　why；　let　Psyche　pass　for　what　they　choose：〃　and　added　aloud；　〃Pray

sit　a　little：　I　will　touch　it　up　here　and　there。〃



〃Ah！　I　am　afraid　you　will　。　。　。　it　is　such　a　capital　likeness　now！〃



But　the　artist　understood　that　the　difficulty　was　with　respect　to　the

sallowness；　and　so　he　reassured　them　by　saying　that　he　only　wished　to

give　more　brilliancy　and　expression　to　the　eyes。　In　truth；　he　was

ashamed；　and　wanted　to　impart　a　little　more　likeness　to　the　original；

lest　any　one　should　accuse　him　of　actual　barefaced　flattery。　And　the

features　of　the　pale　young　girl　at　length　appeared　more　closely　in

Psyche's　countenance。



〃Enough；〃　said　the　mother；　beginning　to　fear　that　the　likeness　might

become　too　decided。　The　artist　was　remunerated　in　every　way；　with

smiles；　money；　compliments；　cordial　pressures　of　the　hand；　invitations

to　dinner：　in　short；　he　received　a　thousand　flattering　rewards。



The　portrait　created　a　furore　in　the　city。　The　lady　exhibited　it　to

her　friends；　and　all　admired　the　skill　with　which　the　artist　had

preserved　the　likeness；　and　at　the　same　time　conferred　more　beauty　on

the　original。　The　last　remark；　of　course；　was　prompted　by　a　slight

tinge　of　envy。　The　artist　was　suddenly　overwhelmed　with　work。　It

seemed　as　if　the　whole　city　wanted　to　be　painted　by　him。　The　door…bell

rang　incessantly。　From　one　point　of　view；　this　might　be　considered

advantageous；　as　presenting　to　him　endless　practice　in　variety　and

number　of　faces。　But；　unfortunately；　they　were　all　people　who　were

hard　to　get　along　with；　either　busy；　hurried　people；　or　else　belonging

to　the　fashionable　world；　and　consequently　more　occupied　than　any　one

else；　and　therefore　impatient　to　the　last　degree。　In　all　quarters；　the

demand　was　merely　that　the　likeness　should　be　good　and　quickly

executed。　The　artist　perceived　that　it　was　a　simple　impossibility　to

finish　his　work；　that　it　was　necessary　to　exchange　power　of　treatment

for　lightness　and　rapidity；　to　catch　only　the　general　expression；　and

not　waste　labour　on　delicate　details。



Moreover；　ne