按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃there are lots of hours when we sit here and do nothing。〃
〃And it is very dull；〃 put in Greta； with a pout。
〃You are rude； Greta；〃 said Miss Naylor in a little rage； pursing her
lips； and taking up her knitting。
〃I think it seems always rude to speak the truth；〃 said Greta。 Miss
Naylor looked at her in that concentrated manner with which she was
in the habit of expressing displeasure。
But at this moment a servant came； and said that Mrs。 Decie would be
glad to see Herr Harz。 The painter made them a stiff bow； and
followed the servant to the house。 Miss Naylor and the two girls
watched his progress with apprehensive eyes； it was clear that he had
been offended。
Crossing the veranda； and passing through an open window hung with
silk curtains； Hart entered a cool dark room。 This was Mrs。 Decie's
sanctum； where she conducted correspondence； received her visitors；
read the latest literature； and sometimes； when she had bad
headaches； lay for hours on the sofa； with a fan； and her eyes
closed。 There was a scent of sandalwood； a suggestion of the East； a
kind of mystery； in here； as if things like chairs and tables were
not really what they seemed； but something much less commonplace。
The visitor looked twice； to be quite sure of anything； there were
many plants； bead curtains； and a deal of silverwork and china。
Mrs。 Decie came forward in the slightly rustling silk whichwhether
in or out of fashionalways accompanied her。 A tall woman； over
fifty； she moved as if she had been tied together at the knees。 Her
face was long； with broad brows； from which her sandy…grey hair was
severely waved back； she had pale eyes； and a perpetual； pale；
enigmatic smile。 Her complexion had been ruined by long residence in
India； and might unkindly have been called fawn…coloured。 She came
close to Harz； keeping her eyes on his； with her head bent slightly
forward。
〃We are so pleased to know you；〃 she said； speaking in a voice which
had lost all ring。 〃It is charming to find some one in these parts
who can help us to remember that there is such a thing as Art。 We
had Mr。 C… here last autumn； such a charming fellow。 He was so
interested in the native customs and dresses。 You are a subject
painter； too； I think？ Won't you sit down？〃
She went on for some time； introducing painters' names； asking
questions； skating round the edge of what was personal。 And the
young man stood before her with a curious little smile fixed on his
lips。 'She wants to know whether I'm worth powder and shot；' he
thought。
〃You wish to paint my nieces？〃 Mrs。 Decie said at last； leaning back
on her settee。
〃I wish to have that honour；〃 Harz answered with a bow。
〃And what sort of picture did you think of？〃
〃That；〃 said Harz； 〃is in the future。 I couldn't tell you。〃 And he
thought： 'Will she ask me if I get my tints in Paris； like the woman
Tramper told me of？'
The perpetual pale smile on Mrs。 Decie's face seemed to invite his
confidence； yet to warn him that his words would be sucked in
somewhere behind those broad fine brows； and carefully sorted。 Mrs。
Decie； indeed； was thinking： 'Interesting young man； regular
Bohemianno harm in that at his age； something Napoleonic in his
face； probably has no dress clothes。 Yes； should like to see more of
him！' She had a fine eye for points of celebrity； his name was
unfamiliar； would probably have been scouted by that famous artist
Mr。 C…； but she felt her instinct urging her on to know him。 She
was； to do her justice； one of those 〃lion〃 finders who seek the
animal for pleasure； not for the glory it brings them； she had the
courage of her instinctslion…entities were indispensable to her；
but she trusted to divination to secure them； nobody could foist a
〃lion〃 on her。
〃It will be very nice。 You will stay and have some lunch？ The
arrangements here are rather odd。 Such a mixed householdbut there
is always lunch at two o'clock for any one who likes； and we all dine
at seven。 You would have your sittings in the afternoons； perhaps？
I should so like to see your sketches。 You are using the old house
on the wall for studio； that is so original of you！〃
Harz would not stay to lunch； but asked if he might begin work that
afternoon； he left a little suffocated by the sandalwood and sympathy
of this sphinx…like woman。
Walking home along the river wall； with the singing of the larks and
thrushes； the rush of waters； the humming of the chafers in his ears；
he felt that he would make something fine of this subject。 Before
his eyes the faces of the two girls continually started up； framed by
the sky； with young leaves guttering against their cheeks。
V
Three days had passed since Harz began his picture； when early in the
morning； Greta came from Villa Rubein along the river dyke and sat
down on a bench from which the old house on the wall was visible。
She had not been there long before Harz came out。
〃I did not knock；〃 said Greta； 〃because you would not have heard； and
it is so early； so I have been waiting for you a quarter of an hour。〃
Selecting a rosebud； from some flowers in her hand； she handed it to
him。 〃That is my first rosebud this year；〃 she said； 〃it is for you
because you are painting me。 To…day I am thirteen； Herr Harz； there
is not to be a sitting； because it is my birthday； but； instead； we
are all going to Meran to see the play of Andreas Hofer。 You are to
come too； please； I am here to tell you； and the others shall be here
directly。〃
Harz bowed： 〃And who are the others？〃
〃Christian； and Dr。 Edmund； Miss Naylor； and Cousin Teresa。 Her
husband is ill； so she is sad； but to…day she is going to forget
that。 It is not good to be always sad； is it； Herr Harz？〃
He laughed： 〃You could not be。〃
Greta answered gravely： 〃Oh yes； I could。 I too am often sad。 You
are making fun。 You are not to make fun to…day； because it is my
birthday。 Do you think growing up is nice； Herr Harz ？〃
〃No； Fraulein Greta； it is better to have all the time before you。〃
They walked on side by side。
〃I think；〃 said Greta； 〃you are very much afraid of losing time。
Chris says that time is nothing。〃
〃Time is everything；〃 responded Harz。
〃She says that time is nothing； and thought is everything；〃 Greta
murmured； rubbing a rose against her cheek； 〃but I think you cannot
have a thought unless you have the time to think it in。 There are
the others！ Look！〃
A cluster of sunshades on the bridge glowed for a moment and was lost
in shadow。
〃Come；〃 said Harz； 〃let's join them！〃
At Meran； under Schloss Tirol； people were streaming across the
meadows into the open theatre。 Here were tall fellows in mountain
dress； with leather breeches； bare knees； and hats with eagles'
feathers； here were fruit…sellers； burghers and their wives；
mountebanks； actors； and every kind of visitor。 The audience； packed
into an enclosure of high boards； sweltered under the burning sun。
Cousin Teresa； tall and thin； with hard； red cheeks； shaded her
pleasant eyes with her hand。
The play began。 It depicted the rising in the Tyrol of 1809： the
village life； dances and yodelling； murmurings and exhortations； the
warning beat of drums； then the gathering； with flintlocks；
pitchforks； knives； the battle and victory； the homecoming； and
festival。 Then the second gathering； the roar of cannon； betrayal；
capture； death。 The impassive figure of the patriot Andreas Hofer
always in front； black…bearded； leathern…girdled； under the blue sky；
against a screen of mountains。
Harz and Christian sat behind the others。 He seemed so intent on the
play that she did not speak； but watched his face； rigid with a kind
of cold excitement； he seemed to be transported by the life passing
before them。 Something of his feeling seized on her； when the play
was over she too was trembling。 In pushing their way out they became
separated from the others。
〃There's a short cut to the station here；〃 said Christian； 〃let's go
this way。〃
The path rose a little； a narrow stream crept alongside the meadow；
and the hedge was spangled with wild roses。 Christian kept glancing
shyly at the painter。 Since their meeting on the river wall her
thoughts had never been at rest。 This stranger； with his keen face；
insistent eyes； and ceaseless energy； had roused a strange feeling in
her； his words had put shape to something in her not yet expressed。
She stood aside at a stile to make way for some peasant boys； dusty
and rough…haired； who sang and whistled as they went by。
〃I was like those boys once；〃 said Harz。
Christian turned to him quickly。 〃Ah！ that was why you felt the
play； so much。〃
〃It's my country up there。 I was born amongst the mountains。 I
looked after the cows； and slept in hay…cocks； and cut the trees in
w