Could he not stop bringing the man into the conversation? He seemed obsessed by him.
“I have other commissions now,” I said quickly.
“Yes. That is wonderful.”
“I shall be going back to Paris to the house of the Duponts in three weeks’ time. I have to paint the two daughters, you remember.”
“It’s quite wonderful. And when I think what you owe to the Baron... ”
I said: “I think we should go to dinner now, Mrs. Baines won’t be pleased if we are late.”
So we dined-my father, Clare and I and I tackled the steak pie to Mrs. Baines’s satisfaction and answered the questions which were fired at me.
Clare looked on with her big doe-like eyes, full of happiness because I was home and my father was coming to terms about his encroaching blindness.
It was amazing how many times my father mentioned the Baron. It was impossible to escape from the man and I felt as though he were sitting at our dining-room table with us.
And that night I dreamed of him. I was lying on that bed in the lodge and he was approaching me. I screamed and awakened, greatly relieved to find myself in my own homely bed.
I wondered then, was I ever going to banish that man from my life?
A few days later a letter came from Madame Dupont. She hoped I would come as soon as possible. Her sister-in-law wanted to talk business with me too. She also had a daughter and was eager to have a Collison miniature other.
“Of course,” she wrote, “I know you are committed to do the wife of Monsieur Villefranche first but please do not let him thrust someone else upon you before you do my sister-in-law’s girl.”
I was indeed a success. And he had done that for me, but I could not be grateful to him. I could feel nothing but hatred and disgust.
I would go earlier than I intended. I felt I had to get away from all the interrogation which I had to endure concerning my stay in Paris and I could not bear my father’s constant references to the Baron.
Moreover, life in Farringdon was not the same. I thought the vicarage family frankly boring and I had never been so very friendly with the Cambomes.
Clare was getting on very well in the village. She had fitted in like a native and was constantly at the vicarage, decorating the church and discussing means of raising money for the bells and involving herself generally in the affairs of the neighbourhood. They all liked her, but her particular friends were the Cambome twins. She talked to me about them. She was a little concerned because Hope had an admirer and she worried a little about poor Faith.
“What would she do,” she said, ‘if her twin married. She can’t join up with them, can she? I do think poor Faith is getting very apprehensive. How strange nature is . to make two people so close. ”
I scarcely listened. The affairs of the village had become very dull to me.
I was glad when the time came for me to leave.
My father said: “It looks as though you will have several commissions.
There is this new one coming along with the sister-in-law. You must take advantage of it. “
“It could mean quite a long stay in Paris,” I pointed out.
“The longer the better … at this stage. You have to get known. Later you can be more selective. It would be a mistake to overload the market, but just at first you must get known.”
“I feel I can leave you in safe hands.”
“Clare is wonderful. Shall I whisper something? She’s easier to get on with than Evie was.”
“That’s exactly what I think. Evie was a marvel of efficiency but Clare is more … what shall I say? She’s softer … more human . “
“You’re right. You couldn’t leave me in better hands. So … no need to worry about anything at home. Keep your mind on your work. You’re going to be the best Collison of us all.”
I was rather relieved when the time came for me to set out for Paris.
In spite of everything, I couldn’t help feeling exhilarated when I arrived in Paris. It was early evening when I stepped out of the train at the Gare du Nord and immediately caught that whiff of excitement which the city had previously aroused in me. I was caught up in the bustle and noticed immediately the noise. The French talked so much more loudly than we did in England and their hands were as expressive as their voices. I heard strains of music coming from somewhere; and I smelt the familiar smell of trains and perfume.
I thought then: The past is done with. I shall begin again from here.
But when the porter carried my bags and hailed a cab for me and I caught sight of the cocker with his blue coat and white hat, I could not stop the tremor of apprehension running through me. I would never entirely forget. Even as I stepped into the cab and was asked in a friendly voice where I wanted to go, I looked suspiciously into the smiling face and saw another there.
I pulled myself together and gave Madame Dupont’s address. I felt deeply moved as we trotted down the familiar
Boulevard Haussmann. The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore was not far off.
The Duponts’ house was in the Boulevard Courcelles nestling among a row of tall white houses which I came to recognize as typical of the town houses of those who had estates in the country.
I suspected the Duponts were of that genre, as they had been guests of the Baron. I was sure he would only know people who were rich or of noble lineage.
I was almost surprised when the cab drew up and the cocker courteously helped me with my bags.
The door was opened by a manservant in dark blue livery with touches of silver about it. He greeted me with deference. I was evidently expected.
“Madame has asked that you be taken to her as soon as you arrive,” he told me.
“Pray come this way.”
He signalled to a boy in the same dark blue livery but with less silver braid, which I presumed indicated that he was of inferior rank, to take my bags, while I followed him into a large room with dark blue walls and white draperies which were most effective. It was a sort of reception hall. The man knocked on a door and with a flourish opened it and announced that Mademoiselle Collison had arrived.
Madame Dupont swam towards me.
“Welcome, Mademoiselle Collison,” she cried.
“It is a great pleasure to have you with us. We are looking forward to what you are going to do for us. Now, we want you to be very comfortable while you stay with us… and I do hope you will be able to work for my sister-in-law. She is most anxious for you to make a pretty picture of her young daughter.” Madame Dupont put a finger to her lips as though to conceal a smile.
“I don’t think you will find her such a rewarding subject as my girls. But you’ll do something beautiful with her, I know. I think perhaps you would like to go to your room first and then … shall we say … meet the girls? I believe you have to talk to them. draw them out. That was what the Baron suggested, I think. “
“Thank you, Madame Dupont,” I said.
“You are very kind.”
“And it has been a trying journey I have no doubt.”
“Well, it is long and the crossing is always difficult.”
“Yes, of course. Now would you like some refreshment or will you wait for dinner? It is for you to say.”
I said I would wait for dinner and she replied that she would summon a maid without delay to take me to my room.
This she did and I was conducted to a charming room on the first floor with windows which reached from ceiling to floor. It had dark walls and white curtains -which seemed to be the motif of the house. It was very attractive.
My bed had a beautiful tapestry headpiece in what I recognized as the Fontainebleau pattern near-white swirling flowers on a dark blue background. The coverlet was white broderie anglaise-charming and fresh. My dressing-table was curtained in dark blue velvet and it had a white-edged mirror with three sides.
My feelings rose in spite of everything.
It had been the best thing possible for me to come to Paris, I was su
re, and after such brutal handling as I had suffered, after such bitter humiliation, it was comforting to be treated with respect. My spirits were rising. I was an artist to be recognized and appreciated.
I must put that horrifying episode behind me and make a new start. I was lucky in the fact that I had been given a chance to do so.
I changed into a dress of green brocade. I was prepared to live in an elegant society, and although I had not brought many clothes those I had were all quite adequate. I had learned something of what the French called chic during my brief stay in their country and I had, I think, been born with something in common with them: I loved the way in which they mingled colours and that elegance which could make the most plain among women look interesting. The fact was I had taken a step away from the past. I was on my way to a new life and I believed that in time I would forget the Baron.
I was interested in the house and longing to see my new subjects.
Already I was concerning myself with where I should work and how I should approach the portraits of the Demoiselles Dupont.
A certain feeling of elation continued throughout the evening. I diried with the family and Madame Dupont treated me as though I were a person of considerable importance. I was the great painter acclaimed by the Baron de Genteville. Monsieur Dupont was a mild gentleman who seemed intent on humouring his wife’s wishes and deferring to her in every way. I discovered later that he kept a pretty mistress in a little house on the Left Bank and his great aim was to keep his wife content so that she did not interfere with this very happy arrangement of his. The two daughters, Emilie and Sophie, did not interest me greatly as people, and only because they were subjects did I force myself to be concerned with them. They were seventeen and sixteen respectively on the verge of being brought out into society-hence the miniatures. They giggled a great deal and had a habit of whispering together, which I found irritating and rather bad manners.
But that was no concern of mine. I thought I could make reasonable pictures of them. I would try to flatter them, for it was no use seeking hidden character in those vapid little faces.
I was an object of interest to the girls, who took covert looks at me throughout the meal and met each other’s eyes across the table conveying secret messages. They were the sort of girls who made you wonder whether you had a smut on your cheek or some buttons undone.
Madame Dupont, however, doted on them, and I was sure she saw them through a rose-coloured haze. Her great aim, I soon discovered, was to find suitable husbands for them both, while Monsieur Dupont’s was to keep his family occupied with each other while he retained his love-nest on the Left Bank intact.
Madame, during the meal, informed her husband that, in spite of my youth, I was an acclaimed painter. One of the Collisons and everyone . but everyone . knew of the Collison miniatures. They were said to be in the top grade of miniatures throughout the world. All the family had done them for hundreds of years. Wasn’t that wonderful? I believe she thought she was very astute to secure me before my prices soared.
She knew I was a great artist because the Baron de Centeville had made that very clear to her, and everyone knew that the Baron was one of the most respected connoisseurs in the country. He even advised the Emperor and Eugenie. The miniature I had done of the Baron was quite superb . and so was that of the Princesse de Crespigny.
“I am sure those of our girls will be equally successful. The Baron will present his to the Princesse and she will give hers to him. Is that not a charming gesture for affianced people to exchange objects of beauty? A miniature set in jewels-the Baron’s was set in diamonds and sapphires-more appealing than an exchange of rings, I think. Well, you girls will have your miniatures when the time comes . “
Madame Dupont was a great talker. I was glad of that. It made one’s own contribution less demanding.
I was to paint Emilie first as she was the elder, and the next morning I was taken to an attic which was fairly light and gave me enchanting views of Paris. I sat Emilie with the light on her face. Like my other model, the Princesse, her nose was too large, but whereas there had been character in the Princesse’s face, I could detect little of that nature in my new model.
She was happy though, and that gave something pleasant to her face. The eyes dark brown-were not bad at all. Her skin was on the olive side not easy. But I wanted to get that sheen of freshness because I could see that Emilie’s main attraction was that which is given to us all at some time: Youth.
She watched me mix my paints.
“I hope you’ll make me prettier than I am,” she said.
“I shall try to make an attractive picture. I like your dress.”
It was pale mauve and suited her dark colouring.
“Maman chose it.”
Trust Maman! Whatever else she was, she understood how to dress herself and her daughters.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“Just talk to me … comfortably … easily … as though I were a friend.”
“What shall I talk about?”
“About what you like doing. About your clothes … your friends .. “
She was tongue-tied. I imagined how she would giggle with her sister when telling her about this sitting.
Finally she forgot her shyness and told me how she was going to be taken to Court. Her cousin Francoise would be coming soon and she and Francoise would be taken together. Sophie had to wait another year.
She was having new dresses made and she was looking forward to it. She would be presented to the Emperor and the Empress Eugenic. Then of course there would be balls and she would meet all sorts of people. It would all be very exciting and if she were a success she might be married very soon.
“And you would like that?”
“It would depend on …”
“On the bridegroom,” I said.
“Well, naturally. What sort of bridegroom do you hope for?”
“Handsome, brave, noble and Maman will insist that he is rich.”
“That’s a big bill to fit. Now if you could only go for one of those qualities, which would it be?”
She looked at me in bewilderment. I could see it was no use trying to introduce a light note into conversation with Mademoiselle Emilie.
She said: “First of all there’s the wedding. That will be a big occasion. Sophie will be allowed to attend the reception.”
“Oh, what wedding is this?”
“The Baron de Centeville and the Princesse de Crespigny.”
“Oh,” I said faintly.
“Next week … at Notre Dame. The streets will be crowded. Oh, it will be such fun.”
I had been promising myself to forget him and now it seemed he was back as vividly as ever. I could not go on painting. My hand had lost its steadiness.
I said: “The light is not good enough. I’ll have to stop.”
Emilie was nothing loath. She was the sort of sitter who would tire easily.
“How is it going?” she asked.
“Well, it is rather soon yet.”
“Can I see?”
“I should wait a day or so.”
“All right. Goodbye. Can you find your way to your own room?”
“Oh yes, thank you very much.”
She ran off to giggle with Sophie about the sitting and the curious ways of the artist, I supposed.
I went to my room and sat for a long time looking out of my window at the Paris street.
So next week . he would be married . What did that matter to me?
I had cut him out of my life. Poor little Princesse! I wondered what Marie-Claude was thinking at this moment.
The miniature was progressing well. It was not difficult. Just a stroke of the brush to get the line of the jaw. She had a heart-shaped face which was rather appealing. I would accentuate that. The colour of the skin bothered me; but when she was excited there was a faint rosy tinge in her cheeks. I would try for that. It worked wonders and made her eyes look bigger.
Yes, I was mak
ing a pleasant picture of Mademoiselle Emilie. I should finish in good time and then start on young Sophie.
I thought: It is money easily earned. The Baron had fixed the price for me. He had said: “People value you as you value yourself. If you charge too little they will consider you second-rate. Put your prices high and they will believe you are worth it… even if you’re not.
People always like to think they get what they pay for. “
Thanks to him, I could become a rich and fashionable artist with many commissions like this.
I had worked steadily, feeling there was no need for delay. I had probed the nature of the little sister-not that it was necessary to dig very deeply. So much the better. In a way it made the task easier if not so interesting. How different it had been working on the Baron.
In him I discovered something new every day.
I could not get him out of my mind. I supposed it was because he was going to get married soon.
There would be no sitting on the wedding day.
It dawned bright and sunny. It was going to be hot as the day progressed. I thought of the frightened little Princesse awakening on this morning-her last day of freedom. How would she fare with that monster of iniquity? I shuddered to contemplate the union. He would take her back to the chateau, I supposed. I imagined her—little Marie Claude-awaiting him in the nuptial chamber, all her fears upon her. For she was frightened of him. I had discovered that much-and no doubt she had good reason to be.
The house was quiet. The family had gone to the wedding. The servants would be out in the streets because it was something of an occasion, and I imagined crowds would be gathered around Notre Dame to see the bride and groom arrive separately and depart together.
And then there came the irresistible urge to go into the streets to mingle with the people, to see him once more. Just once, I told myself, and then never . never again.
I put on my cloak and went out into the street. I hailed a cab -still something of an uneasy adventure for me and I asked the cocker to take me to the Sainte-Chappelle. I thought that would be near enough and I would walk the rest of the way.
He chatted to me. He recognized my accent at once as that of a foreigner, as they all did. It amused me to see the different reactions. Most were amused in a friendly way, eager to help; but there were some who were a little resentful and inclined to despise one for not being French. It was a common trick, I knew now, to pretend not to understand what I said. But this one was decidedly friendly.
The Demon Lover Page 18
