the nabob-第59章

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lieve　that　my　liking　for　you　is　due　especially　to　one　thing：　you　remind　me　of　some　one　who　was　the　great　affection　of　my　youth；　a　sedate　and　sensible　little　being　she　also；　chained　to　the　matter…of…　fact　side　of　existence；　but　tempering　it　with　that　ideal　element　which　we　artists　set　aside　exclusively　for　the　profit　of　our　work。　Certain　things　which　you　say　seem　to　me　as　though　they　had　come　from　her。　You　have　the　same　mouth；　like　an　antique　model's。　Is　it　that　that　gives　this　resemblance　to　your　words？　I　have　no　idea；　but　most　certainly　you　are　like　each　other。　You　shall　see。〃

On　the　table　laden　with　sketches　and　albums；　at　which　she　was　sitting　facing　him；　she　drew；　as　she　talked；　with　brow　inclined　and　her　rather　wild　curly　hair　shading　her　graceful　little　head。　She　was　no　longer　the　beautiful　couchant　monster；　with　the　anxious　and　gloomy　countenance；　condemning　her　own　destiny；　but　a　woman；　a　true　woman；　in　love；　and　eager　to　beguile。　This　time　Paul　forgot　all　his　mistrusts　in　presence　of　so　much　sincerity　and　such　passing　grace。　He　was　about　to　speak；　to　persuade。　The　minute　was　decisive。　But　the　door　opened　and　the　little　page　appeared。　M。　le　Duc　had　sent　to　inquire　whether　mademoiselle　was　still　suffering　from　her　headache　of　earlier　in　the　evening。

〃Still　just　as　much；〃　she　said　with　irritation。

When　the　servant　had　gone　out；　a　moment　of　silence　fell　between　them；　a　glacial　coldness。　Paul　had　risen。　She　continued　her　sketch；　with　her　head　still　bowed。

He　took　a　few　paces　in　the　studio；　then；　having　come　back　to　the　table；　he　asked　quietly；　astonished　to　feel　himself　so　calm：

〃It　was　the　Duc　de　Mora　who　was　to　have　dined　here？〃

〃Yes。　I　was　boreda　day　of　spleen。　Days　of　that　kind　are　bad　for　me。〃

〃Was　the　duchess　to　have　come？〃

〃The　duchess？　No。　I　don't　know　her。〃

〃Well；　in　your　place　I　would　never　receive　in　my　house；　at　my　table；　a　married　man　whose　wife　I　did　not　meet。　You　complain　of　being　deserted；　why　desert　yourself？　When　one　is　without　reproach；　one　should　avoid　the　very　suspicion　of　it。　Do　I　vex　you？〃

〃No；　no；　scold　me；　Minerva。　I　have　no　objection　to　your　ethics。　They　are　honest　and　frank；　yours；　they　do　not　blink　uncertain；　like　those　of　Jenkins。　I　told　you；　I　need　some　one　to　guide　me。〃

And　tossing　over　to　him　the　sketch　which　she　had　just　finished：

〃See；　that　is　the　friend　of　whom　I　was　speaking　to　you。　A　profound　and　sure　affection；　which　I　was　foolish　enough　to　allow　to　be　lost　to　me；　like　the　bungler　I　am。　She　it　was　to　whom　I　appealed　in　moments　of　difficulty；　when　a　decision　required　to　be　taken；　some　sacrifice　made。　I　used　to　say　to　myself；　'What　will　she　think　of　this？'　just　as　we　artists　may　stop　in　the　midst　of　a　piece　of　work　to　refer　it　mentally　to　some　great　man；　one　of　our　masters。　I　must　have　you　take　her　place　for　me。　Will　you？〃

Paul　did　not　answer。　He　was　looking　at　the　portrait　of　Aline。　It　was　she；　herself　to　the　letter；　her　pure　profile；　her　mocking　and　kindly　mouth；　and　the　long　curl　like　a　caress　on　the　delicate　neck。　Felicia　had　ceased　to　exist　for　him。

Poor　Felicia；　endowed　with　superior　talents；　she　was　indeed　like　those　magicians　who　knot　and　unknot　the　destinies　of　men；　without　possessing　any　power　over　their　own　happiness。

〃Will　you　give　me　this　sketch？〃　he　said　in　a　low；　quivering　voice。

〃Most　willingly。　She　is　niceisn't　she？　Ah！　her　indeed；　if　you　should　meet；　love　her；　marry　her。　She　is　worth　more　than　all　the　rest　of　womankind　together。　And　yet；　failing　herfailing　her〃

And　the　beautiful　sphinx；　tamed；　raised　to　him；　moist　and　laughing；　her　great　eyes；　in　which　an　enigma　had　ceased　to　be　indecipherable。



THE　EXHIBITION


〃SUPERB！〃

〃A　tremendous　success！　Barye　has　never　done　anything　so　good　before。〃

〃And　the　bust　of　the　Nabob！　What　a　marvel。　How　happy　Constance　Crenmitz　is！　Look　at　her　trotting　about！〃

〃What！　That　little　old　lady　in　the　ermine　cape　is　the　Crenmitz？　I　thought　she　had　been　dead　twenty　years　ago。〃

Oh；　no！　Very　much　alive；　on　the　contrary。　Delighted；　made　young　again　by　the　triumph　of　her　goddaughter；　who　had　made　what　is　decidedly　the　success　of　the　exhibition；　she　passes　about　among　the　crowd　of　artists　and　fashionable　people；　who；　wedged　together　and　stifling　themselves　in　order　to　get　a　look　at　the　two　points　where　the　works　sent　by　Felicia　are　exhibited；　form　as　it　were　two　solid　masses　of　black　backs　and　jumbled　dresses。　Constance；　ordinarily　so　timid；　edges　her　way　into　the　front　rank；　listens　to　the　discussions；　catches；　as　they　fly；　disjointed　phrases；　formulas　which　she　takes　care　to　remember；　approves　with　a　nod；　smiles；　raises　her　shoulders　when　she　hears　a　stupid　remark　made；　inclined　to　murder　the　first　person　who　should　not　admire。

Whether　it　be　the　good　Crenmitz　or　another；　you　will　always　see　it　at　every　opening　of　the　/Salon/；　that　furtive　silhouette；　prowling　near　wherever　a　conversation　is　going　on；　with　an　anxious　manner　and　alert　ear；　sometimes　a　simple　old　fellow；　some　father；　whose　glance　thanks　you　for　any　kind　word　said　in　passing；　or　assumes　a　grieved　expression　by　reason　of　some　epigram；　flung　at　the　work　of　art；　that　may　wound　some　heart　behind　you。　A　figure　not　to　be　forgotten；　certainly；　if　ever　it　should　occur　to　any　painter　with　a　passion　for　modernity　to　fix　on　canvas　that　very　typical　manifestation　of　Parisian　life；　the　opening　of　an　exhibition　in　that　vast　conservatory　of　sculpture；　with　its　paths　of　yellow　sand；　and　its　immense　glass　roof　beneath　which；　half…way　up；　stand　out　the　galleries　of　the　first　floor；　lined　by　heads　bent　over　to　look　down；　and　decorated　with　improvised　flowing　draperies。

In　a　rather　cold　light；　made　pallid　by　those　green　curtains　that　hang　all　around；　in　which　one　would　fancy　that　the　light…rays　become　rarefied；　in　order　to　give　to　the　vision　of　the　people　walking　about　the　room　a　certain　contemplative　justice；　the　slow　crowd　goes　and　comes；　pauses；　disperses　itself　over　the　seats　in　serried　groups；　and　yet　mixing　up　different　sections　of　society　more　thoroughly　than　any　other　assembly；　just　as　the　weather；　uncertain　and　changeable　at　this　time　of　the　year；　produces　a　confusion　in　the　world　of　clothes；　causes　to　brush　each　other　as　they　pass；　the　black　laces；　the　imperious　train　of　the　great　lady　come　to　see　how　her　portrait　looks；　and　the　Siberian　furs　of　the　actress　just　back　from　Russia　and　anxious　that　everybody　should　know　it。

Here；　no　boxes；　no　stalls；　no　reserved　seats；　and　it　is　this　that　gives　to　this　/premiere/　in　full　daylight　so　great　a　charm　of　curiosity。　Genuine　ladies　of　fashion　are　able　to　form　an　opinion　of　those　painted　beauties　who　receive　so　much　commendation　in　an　artificial　light；　the　little　hat；　following　a　new　mode　of　the　Marquise　de　Bois　l'Hery；　confronts　the　more　than　modest　toilette　of　some　artist's　wife　or　daughter；　while　the　model　who　posed　for　that　beautiful　Andromeda　at　the　entrance；　goes　by　victoriously；　clad　in　too　short　a　skirt；　in　wretched　garments　that　hide　her　beauty　beneath　all　the　false　lines　of　fashion。　People　observe；　admire；　criticise　each　other；　exchange　glances　contemptuous；　disdainful；　or　curious；　interrupted　suddenly　at　the　passage　of　a　celebrity；　of　that　illustrious　critic　whom　we　seem　still　to　see；　tranquil　and　majestic；　his　powerful　head　framed　in　its　long　hair；　making　the　round　of　the　exhibits　in　sculpture　followed　by　a　dozen　young　disciples　eager　to　hear　the　verdict　of　his　kindly　authority。　If　the　sound　of　voices　is　lost　beneath　that　immense　dome；　sonorous　only　under　the　two　vaults　of　the　entrance　and　the　exit；　faces　take　on　there　an　astonishing　intensity；　a　relief　of　movement　and　animation　concentrated　especially　in　the　huge；　dark　bay　where　refreshments　are　served；　crowded　to　overflowing　and　full　of　gesticulation；　the　brightly　coloured　hats　of　the　women　and　the　white　aprons　of　the　waiters　gleaming　against　the　background　of　dark　clothes；　and　in　the　great　space　in　the　middle　where　the　oval　swarming　with　visitors　makes　a　singular　contrast　with　the　immobility　of　the　exhibited　statues；　producing　the　insensible　palpitation　with　which　their　marble　whiteness　and　their　movements　as　of　apotheosis　are　surrounded。

There　are　wings　poised　in　giant　flight；　a　sphere　supported　by　four　allegorical