Strong as Death

re, across which passed flocks of birds in rapid flight. But the glad light of heaven hardly entered this severe room, with high ceilings and draped walls, before it began t

niture, the hangings, and the portraits of great personages still unfinished on the canvases, all seem to rest as if the whole place had suffered the master's fatigue and had toiled with him, taking part in the daily renewal of his struggle. A vague, heavy odor of paint, turpentine, and tobacco was in the air, clinging to the rugs and chairs; and no sound brok

, had been the defender of traditions, and had evoked, like so many others, the great scenes of history; then, modernizing his tendencies, he had painted living men, but in a way that showed the influence of classic memories. Intelligent, enthusiastic, a worker that clung to his changing dreams, in love with his art, which he knew to perfection, he had acquired, by reason of the delicacy of his mind, remarkable executive ability and great versatility, due in some degree to his hesitations and his ex

s steadily growing fame. After his Cleopatra, the first picture that had made him illustrious, Paris suddenly became enamored of him, adopted him, made a pet of him; and all at once he became one of thos

the beginning of old age,

pace, in fancy sketching rapidly against the blue sky the figures of graceful women in the Bois or on the sidewalk of a street, lovers by the water-all the pleasing fancies in which his thoughts reveled. The changin

t had already been born of his artistic fancy; and the vague fear, that had haunted him for a year, that he had lost the power to create, had made the round of

ished sketches, hoping to find something

lassitude of his spirits, he tossed away his cigarette, whistled a popular street-song, bent down and picked up a heavy dumb-bell that lay under a chair. Having raised with the other hand a curtain that draped a mir

ch of an old wrestler, although he kept up his fencing every day and rode his horse with assiduity. His head was still remarkable and as handsome as ever, although in a style different from that of his earlier days. His thick and

the usual movements with the two iron balls, which he held out at the end of his

io, he saw one of the portieres move; then appeared a woma

one

ng his dumb-bell on the floor, he hastened toward the door wit

d in a light summer co

cising, I see,

playing peacock, and allow

aughed, an

as I know you are always alone at this

oked

beautiful you

ew frock. Do you

certainly say that nowadays it is possible t

nows it, having all his life employed his artist's taste and his athlete's muscles in depicting with slender brush changing and delicate fashions, in revealing feminine

be admired, quite content to

h lends to a woman of forty an appearance of having only just reached full maturity, she seemed like one of th

ho never grow old; who carry within themselves a surprising vital force, an indomitable power of resistance, and who remain

her veil an

u do not

been s

, holding up her face, she

lips

prompt, swift movement indicating familiarity with this service. As

g well with

aking a speech in the Ho

n what

eets or on rape-s

uty from the Eure, made a special study

he did not recognize, the lady walked ac

t begun-the portrait of t

to painting portraits of women I shall close your studio

e twice a portrait of

not, i

he technic of art. She stepped back, advanced, made a shade of her hand, sought the p

ou succeed admirabl

?" murmured the

great distinction of style. It cannot be

his occasional return to the simplicity of realism; and, in consideration of the demands of fashionable mod

Princess like

ils in which the jealous and subtle curiosity of women delights, pa

uired: "Does she

d declared tha

dly at him. The ardor of her questioning look caused a quiver in the pupils of he

d: "Truly, now, s

ed, I ass

e Countess. "You never will love anyone but me now. It i

-aged men when some one mentions their age; and he murmured: "To-day and to-morrow, a

turning again toward the di

you thinking

g for a subj

t, p

u see, since I am

you been do

uspected, the judgments, a thousand times heard and repeated, upon the same persons, the same events and opinions, were bearing away and drowning both their minds in that troubled and agitated stream called Parisian life. Knowing everyone in all classes of society, he as an artist to whom all doors were open, she

ming to dine?" s

ou wish. Na

and Musadieu, in honor of my daughter's return-she is coming t

harmed to see Annette again. I h

is true. Th

on her son-in-law's estate at the castle of Roncieres, on the Eure. Little by little, the old lady had kept the child with her more and more, and as the De Guilleroys passed almost half their time in this domain, to which a variety

t be awakened in her before the day fixed for her debut in society. Madame de Guilleroy had given her in the country two governesses, with unexceptionable diplomas, and h

he past three years rheumatism had sent him to watering-places at some distance, which had so

n for her marriage, and sent for her that she might meet immediately the Marquis de Farandal, to whom he wished her to be bet

dea is quite decided u

think it a ve

alked of ot

nt a Christ. He opposed the suggestion, thinking that there was already enoug

down from the cross, and the man who has detached the hands has let drop the whole upper part of the body. I

giving to the eye the sensation of flesh gleaming through the almost transparent stocking, he said: "Ah, that is what I should paint! That is life-a woman's foot at the edge of her skirt! Into that subject on

it off, and the foot, coming out of its leather sheath, moved a

, and material-more material than

ge and slipped it down quickly, turning it inside out, as one would skin a snake. The arm appe

arkled on her white fingers, and the narrow pink nails seemed lik

admiringly. He played with the fingers

ligent and adroit, which executes whatever one wills-books, laces, houses, pyra

, and as the wedding-ring fell i

Let us s

the Countess, s

wing how to understand the subtle distinctions of women, or to discern the border of sacred ground, as he himself said. Above all things it vexed her whenever he alluded with a touch of fam

e and me to the varni

tain

tures to be shown in the next exposit

ppeared to recollect som

shoe," she said.

hich, a little chilled by the air, no longer moved restlessly about; then he slipped on the shoe, and Madame de Guilleroy, rising, approached the table, on which were scattered pape

roached he

isarrange m

ing to this,

an that wishes to b

n whom I do

agreement about the

Ten th

pretty, but not except

with a calm kiss; then she disappeared thr

ish you to go with me to the door

studio. All the past of this liaison unrolled itself before him. He recalled all its details, now l

c Paris, when the painters were monopolizing the favor of the public, and had bui

success or renown; then suddenly, in 1868, he exhibited his Cleopatra, an

laced him beyond competition with his Juive d'Alger, which he exhibited on his return from a trip to Africa, and a portrait of the Princesse de Salia, in 1874, made him considered by the fashionable world the first portrait painter of his day. From that time he became the favorite painter o

e Duchesse de Mortemain's house, a young woman in deep mourning, who was just leaving as he entered,

mandy country squire, agriculturist and deputy; that she was in mourning for her husban

n that had delighted hi

e whose portrait I sh

ing Bertin received a little blue-tinted note, delicately perfumed, in a s

NSI

e, from my poor face, one of your masterpieces. I would entrust it to you willingly if I were certain th

sieur, my si

DE GUI

t himself at the Countess's house, and was very si

amed in white and gold, the painter was shown into a sort of boudoir hung with tapestries of the last century, light and coquettish, those tape

ightly that he had not heard her coming through the next room, and was

she, "that you really wi

ery happy to

nce though a grave air, which was belied, however, by her smiling face, lighted up by h

y presented him, s

ewhat the appearance of a priest or an actor; his hair was long and was tossed back carelessly; his manner was polished, and around the

a long time to have a portrait of his wife, and certainly he would have chosen M. Olivier Bert

ther it would not be better to wait, because of the Countess's deep mourning; but the painter declared that he wished to translate the first impression

d, and afterward with her daughter, whom the artis

of it, but his heart was not in it; he enjoyed it through his vanity, received congratulations and commissions, and played the gallant before charming ladies who flattered him, but never paid court to any. As he did not allow himself to indulge in daring pleasantries and spicy jests in their society, he thought them all prudes, and himself was considered as having good taste. Whenever one of them came to pose at his studio, he felt, in spite of any advances she might make to please him, that disparity of rank which prevents any real unity between artists and fashionable people, no matter how much they may be thrown tog

e annoyed Madame de Guilleroy, who could find nothing to say

rmchair near the newly begun sketch, and tried, according to the a

h sitting, he suddenly ce

more than anyth

d somewhat

y know. Why t

t in those eyes, and I

me talk; I like v

you

ry

, let us ch

of subjects, seeking something on which their minds could meet. They began by exchanging observations on the peo

sed and amused her, began to relate some of the details of his artist life, allowing him

ised by this almost wild gaiety, which said unusual things quite frankly, enlivening them with ir

they alone had charm and fascination. As he painted, standing before his canvas, advancing and retreating, with the movements of a man fighting, he allowed his fancy to flow freely, as if he had known f

shadows of her face, to catch the most fleeting expression, to seize and reproduce that which is in a woman's face beyond its more outward appearance; that emanation of ideal

d, and, planting herself before the c

mamma,

kiss her, flattered by that na?ve h

very quiet, they suddenly heard

am so tire

mplaint that he ordered a shopful of toys t

with them one after another, according to the desire of the moment. From the date of this gift, she loved the pai

musement or occupation that winter, as she was in mourning; so that, for lack of soc

wing how to receive, to smile, to chat, to estimate character, and how to adapt herself to everyone; thus she early became quite at her ease in society, and was always far-seeing and compliant. When the Count de Guilleroy was presented to her as her betrot

nce, she was admired and courted by many men without ever feeling th

a whole evening the incense of this sort of homage, she slept quietly, as a woman who has accomplished her mission on earth. This existence, which lasted seven years, did not weary her nor seem monotonous, for she adored the incessant excitement of society, but some

k in the sittings. He pleased her, too, because he was handsome, strong, and famous, no woman, whatever she may pretend, being indifferent to physical beauty and glory. Flattered at having been admired by this expert, and

clasp exchanged every day as she entered seemed more and

eseen nothing, planned nothing; she was only coquettish with added grace, as a woman always is toward a man who pleases her more than all others; and in her

ow him, by her attention, how much he aroused her interest. He would cease to paint and sit beside her; and in that mental exaltati

o other things, she appeared to listen with so perfect an air of comprehension and such apparent enjoyment of this initiation, that he felt his spirit ex

ate of emotion that is necessary in order to discover all the qualities of the model,

ry secret of her physiognomy, he had become saturated with her personality as a sponge absorbs water; and, in transferring to canvas that emanation of disturbing charm

sed by this game, this victory that was becoming m

r passed her lips-"He is in love with me!" She was glad when people praised his talent, and perhaps was even more pleased when she heard him called handsome. When she was alone, thin

and take little Annette in his arms, kissing her tenderly on her hair, and his eyes,

r daughter, but came alone. On these days he work

e the usual hour. While waiting he paced to and fro, smoking, and asking himself the question that he was surprised to find himself asking for the hundredth time that week: "Am I in love?" He did not know,

ofore, as soon as a woman attracted him he had desired to make a conquest of her, and had held out his hand toward

, though nothing painful entered into this fever of the blood which by contagion stirred his mind also. He was quite aware that Madame de Guilleroy was the cause of his agitation; that it was due to the memories she left him and to the expectation of her return. He did not feel drawn to her by an impulse of his whole being, but he felt her always near him, as if she never had left him; she left to him something of herself when she de

fallen into the trap set by her coquetry, which he had long before understood, and, circumvented by his own

d threw them away, and his eyes every instant looked at the clock,

one on toward the figure it was approaching so lazily. It seemed to him that this would suffice to make the door open, and that the ex

indeed hardly to be realized or even pursued, because of the complications it might bring into his li

that before ten minutes should pass he would see her enter. When the ten minutes had elapsed, he felt anxious, as at the approach of some grief, then irritated because she had made him lose time; finally, he realiz

rds, that he was not one to be kept waiting. And suppose she did not come? Then he would receive a despatch, a card, a servant or a messenger. If sh

mean? Was it love? But he felt no mental exaltation, no intoxication of the senses; it awakened n

Bertin suddenly found himself somewhat breathless, then so joyous

e! Immediately he was sei

I asked myself whi

deed, I

hether I were not

th me? You

ty; I am glad to hear it! However, she said: "You are

"I do not declare that I am in love with you; but I as

made you

are not here; my happ

ated h

rifling! As long as you sleep well and have an

an to

my sleep and

e know

d t

u to recover you

usand

he same thing occurred on several successive days. Accepting his statement as a sort of jes

fore her, hour by hour, since their separation the evening before, with the air of a professor giving a lecture; and she listened with interest, a little moved, and somewhat disturbed by this story which seemed that in a book of which sh

iosity, her eyes fixed upon him, her ear eager for those

her hand and try to kiss it. With a swift movement she would d

come-

nutes she would ask some adroit question that led

losing him, since then she would be compelled to drive him to despair after seeming to encourage him. Yet, should it become necessary to renounce this tender and delicate friendship, th

d happy. As she laid her hand on Olivier's bell, her breast throbbed with impatience, and the stair-carpet seemed the softest her feet ever had

ed, he sat down beside her inste

he fact that what I have said is no

to take her hands, which he kept in his. He was kneeling before her without her taking any notice of his attitude, and with a far-away look upon his face he begged her not to work him any harm. What harm? She did not understand nor try to understand, overcome by the cruel grief of seeing him suffer, yet that grief was almost happiness

d to cry out, to struggle, to repulse him; but she judged herself lost, for she consented while resi

e suddenly sprang to her feet, caught up her hat which had fallen to the floor, put it on her

A cab was passing; she called to it and said to the driver: "Drive slowly, and take me wherever you like." She threw herself

the pedestrians, people in cabs and omnibuses, with a blank gaze that saw nothing; she thought of nothing, a

or some time she remained under that feeling of certainty that irreparable misfortune had befallen her, horro

ed calm and peaceful after this catastrophe; it beat slowly, softly, after the fall th

erself: "Yes, I am a lost woman." No echo of suffering

tuation. No, she did not suffer. She was afraid to think, that was all; she feared to know, to comprehend, and to reflect; on the contrary, in tha

last that the despair she had invoked would not come, she shook of

t foreseen this, not comprehended that the hour for that struggle must come; that this man was so dear to her as to rend

rimanded herself severely, she as

resolution before a thousand reasons sprang up as quickly to combat it. How could she explain such a br

rtin himself, the hypocritical comedy of indifference and forgetfulness, to

g, to assume a look of indignant astonishment in saying: "What would you with

and decided that any othe

as soon as she could what she desired him to do. She must not use a w

are of suffering, as a loyal and upright man-he would re

th a desire to take to her bed, to see no one, to sleep and forget. Having shut herself up in her room, she remained there

her husband with her ordinary demeanor. He appeared, carrying their little one in

had been doing. She replied indifferen

rait-is it go

ming on v

while dining, of the sitting of the Chamber, and of the disc

ought: "I have deceived him! He is my husband, and I have deceived him! How strange it is! Nothing can change that fact, nothing can obliterate it! I closed my eyes. I submitted for a few seconds, a few seconds only, to a man's kisses, and I am no longer a virtuous woman. A few seconds in my life-seconds that never can be effaced-have brought i

the Countess took her little daughter on her lap, weeping over her and kissing her

s of the attitude toward the painter that she purposed to assume; she dreaded the interview that must t

g, forcing herself to foresee what it was she had to fear and w

that she might yet

asking himself, since the evening bef

one, still listening, although she was already far away, for the sound of her step, the r

ween them! Was it possible? After the surprise of this triumph, he gloated over it, and, to realize it

been tied in a few moments that mysterious bond which secretly links two beings to each other. He retained in his still quivering body the piercingly sweet r

ing with happiness. He had hardly awakened the next morning before he asked himself what he should do. To a cocotte o

nderness, his offer of a devotion that should be eternal; but in order to intimate all these passionat

ased, tore up and began anew twenty letters, all of

to go to see her, as soon as the hour for the sitting h

something of herself was fixed; and again and again he looked out of the window into the street. Every gown he saw in the distance made his heart

era-glass, recognized her, and, dizzy with vio

hands, but she drew them away abruptly, and, as he remained at her fe

onsieur? I do not unde

me, I ent

rupted hi

u are rid

dazed, an

Do not treat me in

ases, she signified her wishe

, or I shall leave this studio never to return. If you forget for a singl

this unexpected harshness; th

l obey,

ted that of you! Now work, for you

trembled, his troubled eyes looked without seeing; he

lt a nervous shock, and in a moment he detested her. Yes, yes, that was, indeed, woman! She, too, was like all the others! Why not? She, too, was false, changeable, and weak, like all of them. She had attracted him, seduced him with girlish ruses, trying to overcome hi

and answer him insolently; she could efface nothing, and he-he would forget it! Indeed, it would have been a fine bit of folly

and feared to commit some stupidity. He cut short the sitting under pretense of having an appointment. When the

t and went out. A cold sun, in a misty blue sky, th

red, as he looked at the women that passed him, how pretty and charming she was. Like many others who do not admit it, he had always been waiting to meet the "impossible she," to find the rare, unique, poetic and passionate being, the dream of whom hovers over our hearts. Had he not almos

e asked himself what cause for anger he had against her? With what could he reproach her, after all?-with being a

himself to her, to make her forget; and he pondered as to how he might enable her

had always been so merry, all the pain, all the remorse, all the desolation of that womanly heart. He was moved to pity, and, in order that she might forget, he showed tow

d, asked himself why she was not more indignant at his conduct, how she could sti

this thought had not become intolerable to her. When a woman hates the man who has conquered her thus, she cannot remain in his presence without showing her hatred,

lear, and sure; he now felt himself strong, steady, and master of the situation. He h

hesitating attentions, and indifferent attitudes. Tranquil in the certainty of approaching happiness, what did it matter whether it arrived a little sooner, a littl

in the Countess's eyes was something strange: constraint, a sweet sadness, that appea

eserve. Then he treated her as a friend, a comrade; he tal

rough this intellectual intimacy. But, from consulting her and showing deference to her, he caused her to pass naturally from the functions of a counselor to the sacred office of inspir

painters, that she let herself glide into his arms. She rested ther

ousness of a fall; and to stifle the reproache

ercome by the slow domination of caresses, little by little she attac

s that one day he had taken flight, with hands extended, and that he had been able to clas

iscovered and crystallized that inexpressible something which a painter seldom succeeds in unveiling

illeroy and the painter, Olivier Bertin. With him it was no longer the exaltation of the b

ge, they devote themselves to a single object with a tenderness from which nothing can turn them. Not only do they love the lover, but they wish to love him, and, with eyes on him alone, they so fill their hearts with thou

many others! She realized that he was so free, so susceptible to temptation-he who lived without duties, habits, or scruples, like all men! He was handsome, celebrated, much sought after, having, to respond to his easily awakened desi

norant in his life made her tremble, and all of which she was cognizant alarmed her. At each of their meetings she questioned him ingeniously, without his perceiving it, in order to make him express his opinion on the people he

hout depth, lasting perhaps a week or two, from time to

ed the awakening of a new desire in Olivier, by the look of triumph

med na?ve, tested his tenderness while listening to his thoughts, as we test while listening to detect hidden illness in the body. She would weep as soon as she found herself sure that some on

as she drew close to him again, took possession of him as of something lost and found, a dee

se others for his sake, and to attract them so that he should be both proud and jealous of her. And every time that she succeeded in arousing his jealousy, after making him suffer a little, she allowed him the triumph of winning her back, which revived his love in exciting his vanity. Then, realizing that it was always possible for a man to meet in society a woman whose physical charm would be greater t

ctive to the pride of the artist as to the heart of the man, the place in all Paris wher

t nothing could replace, but she knew how to create new tastes, to arouse appetites of all kinds, material and intellectual, habits of little attentions

d to watch over and maintain them, in order to surround him with all the little pleasures of life, she suddenly feared, as she saw him disgusted with his own home, always complaining of his solitary

eties that she longed for old age, to have an end of

nks as the old ones wore away. But, always solicitous, she watched over the painter's heart as one guards a child crossing a s

famous and popular artist a perfectly natural thing. Through continually meeting,