Artist and Model Part 8

He was mistaken. Sarah, a handsome bohemian, like so many others of her cla.s.s in Paris, in spite of the change which has come about of late in the manners of the shady world--Sarah cared little about having everything she might take a fancy to. What she did want, and for the first time perhaps, was to be loved as she herself loved. Thanks to the want of grit in Paul's character she had gained such an ascendency over him that he had to steal away unknown to her when he left Paris.

He wrote to her from St. Petersburg to explain the reasons for his journey, and as he did not foresee that he was about to be the hero of the adventure with which our readers have been made acquainted, he had not failed to promise Sarah that he would always love her and would return soon.

The young woman had made up her mind to bear his absence, but she had forgotten him so little that within twenty-four hours of his return to Paris she was in his arms. The artist tried to resist her; but to have repulsed Sarah he would have had to say that he loved another. He did not dare. Besides, he was young, ardent; and the model was a superb creature, full of fire, reminding him, though a brunette, of the Princess Olsdorf. He kept silence, yielded; and their old relations were begun anew.

From time to time--for instance, when a letter from Lise reached him--Paul felt some remorse; but he dared not break off with Sarah now; besides which, he did not think the princess would ever be able to keep her promise of rejoining him in France.

This was the state of things when he got the telegram which told him that in two days she would be in Paris.

At the news the painter lost his head for the moment. No doubt Lise's coming, reawakening all his desires, gave him very great joy, but he asked himself with terror what he was to do with Sarah. The princess would be sure to wish to see his studio, she would make long stays there, and as it would be practically impossible for him to shut out the model altogether, the two women would before long be face to face. It was easy to foresee what would happen then. Lise was not the woman to give way; he knew by experience how little she cared about compromising herself; on the other hand, Sarah was not a girl to complacently make room for a rival, especially when she saw that the struggle would be against a woman of fas.h.i.+on.

Paul was so troubled at the antic.i.p.ation of this conflict that he could think of nothing else to do than to tell the facts to his brother. It was like consulting a blind man on a question of colors. Frantz knew nothing of the A B C of pa.s.sion, and consequently could not see that difficulties of the kind submitted to him were real. He could find only a single remedy for the evil. It was a simpleton's. The artist must forbid the princess to come to his studio, on the plea that she would be exposed to meet there too often people not of her world. Meanwhile Paul would have leisure to break off gently with Sarah.

Charmed with the idea, and himself imagining none better, Frantz's brother adopted the plan, and on the following day, scarcely at all uneasy in his mind, he met the princess at the Great Northern Station.

We know that Lise Olsdorf had traveled alone, bringing with her no servants, not even a lady's-maid. She wanted to be free from the moment of her departure. On seeing Paul she sprung into his arms without care for the onlookers, or for her countrymen who had come by the same train.

Greatly moved, the painter almost carried her to the carriage he had waiting, and for some moments, forgetful of everything, they remained pressed against each other, exchanging only broken words and warm caresses.

However, they must needs return to reality and look after the luggage.

Paul wished to go alone to claim it, but the young woman would not leave him for a moment, and there they were presently, both of them, mixed up with the other travelers. So they pa.s.sed half an hour, not impatient, because they were with one another. At last the princess's trunks were delivered to them and put upon an omnibus, Paul giving the address of the Baden Hotel to the driver. Lise Olsdorf had telegraphed thither for rooms.

Twenty minutes later they were at table, and the great Russian lady was telling her lover how she had won her husband's consent that she should leave St. Petersburg. When she ended by telling him that she was about to become a mother, and that she wished to bring into the world while near him this child, whose father he was, there was a renewal of fervid tenderness between them.

They determined what their mode of life should be thenceforward, beginning with the next day. Every evening they would dine together, and when they did not remain at the hotel they would go to the theater.

Lise Olsdorf knew nothing of Paris but what she had heard from her countrymen. She was eager to see it, leaning on Paul's arm. Then she would keep him company in his studio, for he must work and grow famous.

And, then, he had to paint this portrait of her which she had refused to pose for at St. Petersburg, and the idea made her thrill voluptuously.

What had seemed impossible to her in Russia was quite simple in France.

At Paris was not she his alone and entirely? What did she care now for the world! What had she to fear? Who could say whether she would ever return to the banks of the Neva! He must introduce her, too, to his family. She wanted to be loved by all whom Paul loved. Oh, trust her to charm the ladies of his family. She knew how to win a mother's heart, she said, with an air of profound conviction; it was through her children. Now she would only give his little niece a week to be desperately in love with her.

Paul, who had listened to these plans with as much pride as joy, had not the courage to protest against the long visits the princess meant to pay him; so that next day, when she came to him in the Boulevard Clichy at the hour she had appointed, he was all the time in a state of alarm. He had, indeed, told Sarah that he expected some strangers, and that he would be glad if she would not come as usual, but, all the same, he dreaded the curiosity of the young girl, who, perhaps, would not guess how compromising her presence there might be.

However, Sarah did not come this day, and the princess, untroubled by an appearance that would a.s.suredly have aroused her suspicions, could examine at her ease the studio which the painter had spent pains in adorning. Unhappily, the artistic things it contained were not many.

Here and there were a few indifferent pictures, presents from friends, some sketches, some plaster casts, and, in the middle of the room, on an easel with dark-colored drapery, the portrait of the mistress of Pampeln.

It was what Lise Olsdorf's eyes first fell on. Full of grat.i.tude and love she sunk into her lover's arms, saying, pa.s.sionately:

"You were waiting, were you not, to paint the other?"

"The other" was the portrait that the painter had sketched at the chateau, and the princess had not dared to let him finish.

What most struck the artist's mistress, however, was the want of elegance in the studio.

She took, as it were, a detailed note of what was lacking, and next day Paul saw delivered at his rooms a superb selection of fanciful j.a.panese silks.

They were accompanied by a note in these words only:

"The Princess Olsdorf to her painter in ordinary."

For a moment or two the young painter thought of refusing this present, but he was afraid of rebuffing Lise too cruelly. As it was early and he did not expect her before the afternoon, he sent for a neighboring upholsterer and set to work with him.

In less than an hour the studio was transformed. The walls, distempered in a dull gray, were hidden under brilliant hangings, artistically draped; a thick carpet covered and made more level the rough wooden floor, while the large sofa had a.s.sumed quite an Oriental look, with its ample drapery of many-colored cashmere.

Paul was quite vain of his work, and was eying it proudly, scarcely thinking of the sources of his riches, when the door opened suddenly and admitted Sarah, whom he had forgotten altogether.

"The deuce!" she exclaimed, stopping on the threshold of the studio, "how grand we are here. One might be at Carolus's. Have you become a millionaire in this last twenty-four hours? Was it to give me this surprise that you forbade me to come? That was very nice of you."

The young girl had flung her arms about Paul's neck, and he, though he did not repulse her, could find nothing to say. But he had grown so red and was so plainly ill at ease that the model added, quickly:

"I seem to be in the way."

"No," stammered the artist, "how can you be so foolish?--but--"

"But what? Come, speak out. Ah! this portrait. Whose is it?"

Up to this time the portrait had lain at Frantz Meyrin's. Out of prudence Paul had left it there. He had brought it to the studio only the day before.

"It is the Princess Olsdorf," he said, "a great Russian lady whose husband was most kind to me in St. Petersburg."

"You never told me about it. Why? Where was this picture?"

"In Russia. It came yesterday, that I might have time to work at it before the exhibition."

"She is a pretty woman."

"Yes; not bad."

"No doubt it was with the price of this portrait that you bought all these fine things."

"I painted five or six pictures over there, which I was well paid for."

At this moment he heard the wheels of a carriage stopping before the house.

Going to the window he saw it was the princess's carriage.

Returning quickly to the young girl, who was looking with a frown, as if feeling a jealous presentiment, at the portrait of the stranger, he said to her:

"My little Sarah, if you are a dear, good little thing, you will go now.

Here are visitors, and they had better not see so pretty a girl as you here."

"Why so?" replied the model, coldly. "Do Carolus and Henner send me away when visitors come?"

"I am not sending you away. I only ask you simply--"

It was too late.

There was a knock at the door, and, without waiting for an answer, the person came in.