I have absorbed her little by little; my mind is stamped and
imbued, and I have determined now to clinch the impression; I shall at
last invite her to sit for me!"
"'At last--at last'?" I repeated, in much amazement. "Do you mean that
she has never done so yet?"
"I have not really had--a--a sitting," said Theobald, speaking very
slowly. "I have taken notes, you know; I have got my grand fundamental
impression. That's the great thing! But I have not actually had her as
a model, posed and draped and lighted, before my easel."
What had become for the moment of my perception and my tact I am at a
loss to say; in their absence I was unable to repress a headlong
exclamation. I was destined to regret it. We had stopped at a turning,
beneath a lamp. "My poor friend," I exclaimed, laying my hand on his
shoulder, "you have _dawdled_! She's an old, old woman--for a Madonna!"
It was as if I had brutally struck him; I shall never forget the long,
slow, almost ghastly look of pain, with which he answered me.
"Dawdled?--old, old?" he stammered.
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