I had enjoyed my morning and was grateful to my ill-mannered little Princesse who had made it possible.
Dejeuner was served in my room, again on a tray, and I wondered whether this was how I should take all my meals. It was clear that these people did not know how they should treat me. I expect they must have regarded me as a kind of servant. How different it had been at the chateau, where artists were considered to be of some account.
It was not important. I should complete my portrait and then go home before returning to France to carry out the other commissions.
Madame la Gouvernante came to my room after I had finished my food and told me that the Princesse and her party had not yet returned. She had learned that they were visiting a house on the way to St. Cloud. They would probably be back soon and I should remain in so that I should be available if the Princesse needed me.
I accepted this, but it was not until past four o’clock when a summons came to me to tell me that the Princesse was in the attic waiting to receive me.
I went straight up. She was standing by the window looking out and did not turn as I entered. She was dressed in a very bright red ball gown; her shoulders were bare and her long dark hair loose. From the back she looked like a child.
I said: “Princesse …”
“Come in, Mademoiselle Collison,” she said.
“You may start now.”
“That is quite impossible,” I replied.
“The light is not good enough.”
“What do you mean?” She swung round. Her face was vaguely familiar.
Then it downed on me. I should have recognized her at once but for the red ball dress and loose hair which made her look rather different from the girl who had worn the black dress and apron on the previous night.
So, I thought, she plays tricks. And I knew then that she was going to make my stay difficult.
I went towards her and inclined my head. I was not going to curtsey to such a child; after all, royalty did not mean the same in France as it had before the Revolution.
“You see, Princesse,” I explained, “I need the best possible light for such fine work. The morning is the only time I care to work … unless it is a very bright afternoon … certainly not on an overcast one like this.”
“Perhaps we should get an artist who can work at any time,” she said haughtily.
“That is for you to decide. I will merely say this: There will be no sitting this afternoon. If you are not riding tomorrow morning, I should like to start then … at, say, ten o’clock.”
“I am not sure,” she replied.
“I cannot stay here indefinitely,” I told her.
“Well perhaps ..” she said grudgingly.
“Perhaps you would allow me to stay now and chat for a while. I must know something of my subjects before I attempt to paint them. May I sit down?”
She nodded.
I regarded her steadily. She had the thick Valois nose which, while it might proclaim her ancestry, did not fit in with modem notions of beauty. Her eyes were small but they were bright; her mouth was rather petulant but perhaps that changed with her moods. It should not be impossible to make a charming picture. She had the glow of youth; her skin was good, so were her teeth. if she could be prevailed upon to smile. The colour of the dress was quite wrong for her.
She said: “You will have to give me a better nose.”
I laughed.
“I want to paint^oa,” I said.
“That means you’re going to make me ugly ” Indeed it does not. I see possibilities. “
“What do you mean … possibilities?”
“Do you ever smile?”
“Certainly I do … when I’m pleased.”
“Well, we’ll have you pleased. You have very beautiful teeth. What is the point of hiding them? A lovely smile would take off the length of the nose; and if you opened your eyes wide and looked interested they would brighten and look bigger. Also the dress is wrong.”
“I like the dress.”
“Well, that is good enough. We must paint the red dress because you like it.”
“But you say you don’t.”
“No. Red is not your colour … nor is the black you wore last night.”
She flushed pink and started to laugh. She looked almost pretty.
“That’s better,” I said.
“If I could catch that…”
“You pretended you didn’t recognize me.”
“I recognized you immediately.”
“Not last night.”
“How could I? I had never met the Princesse …”
“And when you saw me here …”
“I knew at once.”
“And what did you think last night? Was I a good maid?”
“No. An impertinent one.”
She laughed again and I laughed too.
“I don’t want this picture done, you know,” she said.
“I do realize that.”
“I hate having it done.” Her face crumpled suddenly and she looked like a frightened child.
“I hate it all …”
I understood. Moreover my attitude towards her had changed completely.
I was sorry for her. Poor innocent child to go to that man!
“Was that why you were so ill-mannered this morning?”
“Ill-mannered?”
“In going riding when it was arranged that there was to be a sitting.”
“I don’t think of it as being ill-mannered. We don’t have to worry about…”
“Servants?” I said.
“Or artists … but perhaps artists are servants.”
“They come here to work for us … and are paid for it.”
“Do you know what one of your greatest kings once said?”
“Oh … history!”
“It is pertinent to the occasion.
“Men make kings but only God can make an artist.”
“What does that mean? I thought God was supposed to have made us all.”
“It means that God gives the art of creation to a few chosen people and great ones are more important than kings.”
“That’s the sort of thing they said during the revolution.”
“On the contrary, it was said by one of your most autocratic kings -Francois Premier.”
“I suppose you are very clever.”
“I’m good at my job.”
“The Baron said you were good, didn’t he?”
“He appreciated my work.”
“You did a picture of him. He sat for you.”
“He did and I am glad to say that he was a very good sitter.”
“I suppose I shall have to sit for you.”
“It is the reason why I’m here. I should like to see you in blue. I think that would suit you. It would bring out the glow of your skin.”
She touched her face. I thought how young she was and I forgave her everything-her silly little masquerade of the night before and her rudeness in breaking her appointment. I saw her as a frightened child.
“Would you like me to see what you have to wear?” I asked.
“We could perhaps find a favourite dress of yours. I myself prefer blue, but it may be that you have something else which would be equally good.”
“I have a great many dresses,” she said.
“I have been presented to the Empress. I thought I should have some fun perhaps, but when the Baron decided to marry me that put an end to that.”
“When are you to marry?”
“Very soon. Next month … on my eighteenth birthday. ”
She looked at me suddenly and stopped and it occurred to J me that she would very easily share confidences. Poor child! I had discovered a good deal about her in a short time and I knew that she was lonely and frightened.
“How would it be if we decided on the dress now,” I said,| ‘and we could start the miniature tomorrow morning. I| should like to be early soon after nine o’clock. The light! should be good then. The miniature, I understand, is to be mounted in the same way as the one I did of the Baron. It isn't gold with diamonds and sapphires. It is absolutely magnificent, as you know. That is one of the reasons why I thought blue for the dress. “