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A Sentimental Education Volume II
A Sentimental Education Volume II
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CHAPTER XI.
A DINNER AND A DUEL 1
CHAPTER XII.
LITTLE LOUISE GROWS UP 47
CHAPTER XIII.
ROSANETTE AS A LOVELY TURK 62
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BARRICADE 110
CHAPTER XV.
"HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER" 193
CHAPTER XVI.
UNPLEASANT NEWS FROM ROSANETTE 214
CHAPTER XVII.
A STRANGE BETROTHAL 242
CHAPTER XVIII.
AN AUCTION 292
CHAPTER XIX.
A BITTER-SWEET REUNION 315
CHAPTER XX.
"WAIT TILL YOU COME TO FORTY YEAR" 323
CHAPTER XI.
A DINNER AND A DUEL.
Frederick passed the whole of the next day in brooding over his anger
and humiliation. He reproached himself for not having given a slap in
the face to Cisy. As for the Maréchale, he swore not to see her again.
Others as good-looking could be easily found; and, as money would be
required in order to possess these women, he would speculate on the
Bourse with the purchase-money of his farm. He would get rich; he would
crush the Maréchale and everyone else with his luxury. When the evening
had come, he was surprised at not having thought of Madame Arnoux.
"So much the better. What's the good of it?"
Two days after, at eight o'clock, Pellerin came to pay him a visit. He
began by expressing his admiration of the furniture and talking in a
wheedling tone. Then, abruptly:
"You were at the races on Sunday?"
"Yes, alas!"
Thereupon the painter decried the anatomy of English horses, and praised
the horses of Gericourt and the horses of the Parthenon.
"Rosanette was with you?"
And he artfully proceeded to speak in flattering terms about her.
Frederick's freezing manner put him a little out of countenance.
He did not know how to bring about the question of her portrait. His
first idea had been to do a portrait in the style of Titian. But
gradually the varied colouring of his model had bewitched him; he had
gone on boldly with the work, heaping up paste on paste and light on
light. Rosanette, in the beginning, was enchanted. Her appointments with
Delmar had interrupted the sittings, and left Pellerin all the time to
get bedazzled. Then, as his admiration began to subside, he asked
himself whether the picture might not be on a larger scale. He had gone
to have another look at the Titians, realised how the great artist had
filled in his portraits with such finish, and saw wherein his own
shortcomings lay; and then he began to go over the outlines again in the
most simple fashion. After that, he sought, by scraping them off, to
lose there, to mingle there, all the tones of the head and those of the
background; and the face had assumed consistency and the shades
vigour--the whole work had a look of greater firmness. At length the
Maréchale came back again. She even indulged in some hostile criticisms.
The painter naturally persevered in his own course. After getting into a
violent passion at her silliness, he said to himself that, after all,
perhaps she was right. Then began the era of doubts, twinges of
reflection which brought about cramps in the stomach, insomnia,
feverishness and disgust with himself. He had the courage to make some
retouchings, but without much heart, and with a feeling that his work
was bad.
He complained merely of having been refused a place in the Salon; then
he reproached Frederick for not having come to see the Maréchale's
portrait.
"What do I care about the Maréchale?"
Such an expression of unconcern emboldened the artist.
"Would you believe that this brute has no interest in the thing any
longer?"
What he did not mention was that he had asked her for a thousand crowns.
Now the Maréchale did not give herself much bother about ascertaining
who was going to pay, and, preferring to screw money out of Arnoux for
things of a more urgent character, had not even spoken to him on the
subject.
"Well, and Arnoux?"
She had thrown it over on him. The ex-picture-dealer wished to have
nothing to do with the portrait.
"He maintains that it belongs to Rosanette."
"In fact, it is hers."
"How is that? 'Tis she that sent me to you," was Pellerin's answer.
If he had been thinking of the excellence of his work, he would not have
dreamed perhaps of making capital out of it.
A DINNER AND A DUEL 1
CHAPTER XII.
LITTLE LOUISE GROWS UP 47
CHAPTER XIII.
ROSANETTE AS A LOVELY TURK 62
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BARRICADE 110
CHAPTER XV.
"HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER" 193
CHAPTER XVI.
UNPLEASANT NEWS FROM ROSANETTE 214
CHAPTER XVII.
A STRANGE BETROTHAL 242
CHAPTER XVIII.
AN AUCTION 292
CHAPTER XIX.
A BITTER-SWEET REUNION 315
CHAPTER XX.
"WAIT TILL YOU COME TO FORTY YEAR" 323
CHAPTER XI.
A DINNER AND A DUEL.
Frederick passed the whole of the next day in brooding over his anger
and humiliation. He reproached himself for not having given a slap in
the face to Cisy. As for the Maréchale, he swore not to see her again.
Others as good-looking could be easily found; and, as money would be
required in order to possess these women, he would speculate on the
Bourse with the purchase-money of his farm. He would get rich; he would
crush the Maréchale and everyone else with his luxury. When the evening
had come, he was surprised at not having thought of Madame Arnoux.
"So much the better. What's the good of it?"
Two days after, at eight o'clock, Pellerin came to pay him a visit. He
began by expressing his admiration of the furniture and talking in a
wheedling tone. Then, abruptly:
"You were at the races on Sunday?"
"Yes, alas!"
Thereupon the painter decried the anatomy of English horses, and praised
the horses of Gericourt and the horses of the Parthenon.
"Rosanette was with you?"
And he artfully proceeded to speak in flattering terms about her.
Frederick's freezing manner put him a little out of countenance.
He did not know how to bring about the question of her portrait. His
first idea had been to do a portrait in the style of Titian. But
gradually the varied colouring of his model had bewitched him; he had
gone on boldly with the work, heaping up paste on paste and light on
light. Rosanette, in the beginning, was enchanted. Her appointments with
Delmar had interrupted the sittings, and left Pellerin all the time to
get bedazzled. Then, as his admiration began to subside, he asked
himself whether the picture might not be on a larger scale. He had gone
to have another look at the Titians, realised how the great artist had
filled in his portraits with such finish, and saw wherein his own
shortcomings lay; and then he began to go over the outlines again in the
most simple fashion. After that, he sought, by scraping them off, to
lose there, to mingle there, all the tones of the head and those of the
background; and the face had assumed consistency and the shades
vigour--the whole work had a look of greater firmness. At length the
Maréchale came back again. She even indulged in some hostile criticisms.
The painter naturally persevered in his own course. After getting into a
violent passion at her silliness, he said to himself that, after all,
perhaps she was right. Then began the era of doubts, twinges of
reflection which brought about cramps in the stomach, insomnia,
feverishness and disgust with himself. He had the courage to make some
retouchings, but without much heart, and with a feeling that his work
was bad.
He complained merely of having been refused a place in the Salon; then
he reproached Frederick for not having come to see the Maréchale's
portrait.
"What do I care about the Maréchale?"
Such an expression of unconcern emboldened the artist.
"Would you believe that this brute has no interest in the thing any
longer?"
What he did not mention was that he had asked her for a thousand crowns.
Now the Maréchale did not give herself much bother about ascertaining
who was going to pay, and, preferring to screw money out of Arnoux for
things of a more urgent character, had not even spoken to him on the
subject.
"Well, and Arnoux?"
She had thrown it over on him. The ex-picture-dealer wished to have
nothing to do with the portrait.
"He maintains that it belongs to Rosanette."
"In fact, it is hers."
"How is that? 'Tis she that sent me to you," was Pellerin's answer.
If he had been thinking of the excellence of his work, he would not have
dreamed perhaps of making capital out of it.
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