some short stories-第7部分

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〃Golden　eyes？　　I　SAY！〃　cried　Miss　Churm；　while　my　companions
watched　her　with　intensity　as　she　withdrew。　　She　always　arranged
herself；　when　she　was　late；　before　I　could　turn　round；　and　I　kept
my　visitors　a　little　on　purpose；　so　that　they　might　get　an　idea；
from　seeing　her；　what　would　be　expected　of　themselves。　　I　mentioned
that　she　was　quite　my　notion　of　ail　excellent　modelshe　was　really
very　clever。

〃Do　you　think　she　looks　like　a　Russian　princess？〃　Major　Monarch
asked　with　lurking　alarm。

〃When　I　make　her；　yes。〃

〃Oh　if　you　have　to　MAKE　her！〃　he　reasoned；　not　without　point。

〃That's　the　most　you　can　ask。　　There　are　so　many　who　are　not
makeable。〃

〃Well　now；　HERE'S　a　lady〃and　with　a　persuasive　smile　he　passed
his　arm　into　his　wife's〃who's　already　made！〃

〃Oh　I'm　not　a　Russian　princess；〃　Mrs。　Monarch　protested　a　little
coldly。　　I　could　see　she　had　known　some　and　didn't　like　them。
There　at　once　was　a　complication　of　a　kind　I　never　had　to　fear　with
Miss　Churm。

This　young　lady　came　back　in　black　velvetthe　gown　was　rather
rusty　and　very　low　on　her　lean　shouldersand　with　a　Japanese　fan
in　her　red　hands。　　I　reminded　her　that　in　the　scene　I　was　doing　she
had　to　look　over　some　one's　head。　　〃I　forget　whose　it　is　but　it
doesn't　matter。　　Just　look　over　a　head。〃

〃I'd　rather　look　over　a　stove；〃　said　Miss　Churm　and　she　took　her
station　near　the　fire。　　She　fell　into　Position；　settled　herself
into　a　tall　attitude；　gave　a　certain　backward　inclination　to　her
head　and　a　certain　forward　droop　to　her　fan；　and　looked；　at　least
to　my　prejudiced　sense；　distinguished　and　charming；　foreign　and
dangerous。　　We　left　her　looking　so　while　I　went　downstairs　with
Major　and　Mrs。　Monarch。

〃I　believe　I　could　come　about　as　near　it　as　that；〃　said　Mrs。
Monarch。

〃Oh　you　think　she's　shabby；　but　you　must　allow　for　the　alchemy　of
art。〃

However；　they　went　off　with　an　evident　increase　of　comfort　founded
on　their　demonstrable　advantage　in　being　the　real　thing。　　I　could
fancy　them　shuddering　over　Miss　Churm。　　She　was　very　droll　about
them　when　I　went　back；　for　I　told　her　what　they　wanted。

〃Well；　if　SHE　can　sit　I'll　tyke　to　bookkeeping；〃　said　my　model。

〃She's　very　ladylike；〃　I　replied　as　an　innocent　form　of
aggravation。

〃So　much　the　worse　for　YOU。　　That　means　she　can't　turn　round。〃

〃She'll　do　for　the　fashionable　novels。〃

〃Oh　yes；　she'll　DO　for　them！〃　my　model　humorously　declared。　　〃Ain't
they　bad　enough　without　her？〃　　I　had　often　sociably　denounced　them
to　Miss　Churm。



CHAPTER　III



It　was　for　the　elucidation　of　a　mystery　in　one　of　these　works　that
I　first　tried　Mrs。　Monarch。　　Her　husband　came　with　her；　to　be
useful　if　necessaryit　was　sufficiently　clear　that　as　a　general
thing　he　would　prefer　to　come　with　her。　　At　first　I　wondered　if
this　were　for　〃propriety's〃　sakeif　he　were　going　to　be　jealous
and　meddling。　　The　idea　was　too　tiresome；　and　if　it　had　been
confirmed　it　would　speedily　have　brought　our　acquaintance　to　a
close。　　But　I　soon　saw　there　was　nothing　in　it　and　that　if　he
accompanied　Mrs。　Monarch　it　wasin　addition　to　the　chance　of　being
wantedsimply　because　he　had　nothing　else　to　do。　　When　they　were
separate　his　occupation　was　gone；　and　they　never　HAD　been　separate。
I　judged　rightly　that　in　their　awkward　situation　their　close　union
was　their　main　comfort　and　that　this　union　had　no　weak　spot。　　It
was　a　real　marriage；　an　encouragement　to　the　hesitating；　a　nut　for
pessimists　to　crack。　　Their　address　was　humbleI　remember
afterwards　thinking　it　had　been　the　only　thing　about　them　that　was
really　professionaland　I　could　fancy　the　lamentable　lodgings　in
which　the　Major　would　have　been　left　alone。　　He　could　sit　there
more　or　less　grimly　with　his　wifehe　couldn't　sit　there　anyhow
without　her。

He　had　too　much　tact　to　try　and　make　himself　agreeable　when　he
couldn't　be　useful；　so　when　I　was　too　absorbed　in　my　work　to　talk
he　simply　sat　and　waited。　　But　I　liked　to　hear　him　talkit　made　my
work；　when　not　interrupting　it；　less　mechanical；　less　special。　　To
listen　to　him　was　to　combine　the　excitement　of　going　out　with　the
economy　of　staying　at　home。　　There　was　only　one　hindrancethat　I
seemed　not　to　know　any　of　the　people　this　brilliant　couple　had
known。　　I　think　he　wondered　extremely；　during　the　term　of　our
intercourse；　whom　the　deuce　I　DID　know。　　He　hadn't　a　stray　sixpence
of　an　idea　to　fumble　for；　so　we　didn't　spin　it　very　fine；　we
confined　ourselves　to　questions　of　leather　and　even　of　liquor…
saddlers　and　breeches…makers　and　how　to　get　excellent　claret　cheap…
…and　matters　like　〃good　trains〃　and　the　habits　of　small　game。　　His
lore　on　these　last　subjects　was　astonishinghe　managed　to
interweave　the　station…master　with　the　ornithologist。　　When　he
couldn't　talk　about　greater　things　he　could　talk　cheerfully　about
smaller；　and　since　I　couldn't　accompany　him　into　reminiscences　of
the　fashionable　world　he　could　lower　the　conversation　without　a
visible　effort　to　my　level。

So　earnest　a　desire　to　please　was　touching　in　a　man　who　could　so
easily　have　knocked　one　down。　　He　looked　after　the　fire　and　had　an
opinion　on　the　draught　of　the　stove　without　my　asking　him；　and　I
could　see　that　he　thought　many　of　my　arrangements　not　half　knowing。
I　remember　telling　him　that　if　I　were　only　rich　I'd　offer　him　a
salary　to　come　and　teach　me　how　to　live。　　Sometimes　he　gave　a
random　sigh　of　which　the　essence　might　have　been：　　〃Give　me　even
such　a　bare　old…barrack　as　this；　and　I'd　do　something　with　it！〃
When　I　wanted　to　use　him　he　came　alone；　which　was　an　illustration
of　the　superior　courage　of　women。　　His　wife　could　bear　her　solitary
second　floor；　and　she　was　in　general　more　discreet；　showing　by
various　small　reserves　that　she　was　alive　to　the　propriety　of
keeping　our　relations　markedly　professionalnot　letting　them　slide
into　sociability。　　She　wished　it　to　remain　clear　that　she　and　the
Major　were　employed；　not　cultivated；　and　if　she　approved　of　me　as　a
superior；　who　could　be　kept　in　his　place；　she　never　thought　me
quite　good　enough　for　an　equal。

She　sat　with　great　intensity；　giving　the　whole　of　her　mind　to　it；
and　was　capable　of　remaining　for　an　hour　almost　as　motionless　as
before　a　photographer's　lens。　　I　could　see　she　had　been
photographed　often；　but　somehow　the　very　habit　that　made　her　good
for　that　purpose　unfitted　her　for　mine。　　At　first　I　was　extremely
pleased　with　her　ladylike　air；　and　it　was　a　satisfaction；　on　coming
to　follow　her　lines；　to　see　how　good　they　were　and　how　far　they
could　lead　the　pencil。　　But　after　a　little　skirmishing　I　began　to
find　her　too　insurmountably　stiff；　do　what　I　would　with　it　my
drawing　looked　like　a　photograph　or　a　copy　of　a　photograph。　　Her
figure　had　no　variety　of　expressionshe　herself　had　no　sense　of
variety。　　You　may　say　that　this　was　my　business　and　was　only　a
question　of　placing　her。　　Yet　I　placed　her　in　every　conceivable
position　and　she　managed　to　obliterate　their　differences。　　She　was
always　a　lady　certainly；　and　into　the　bargain　was　always　the　same
lady。　　She　was　the　real　thing；　but　always　the　same　thing。　　There
were　moments　when　I　rather　writhed　under　the　serenity　of　her
confidence　that　she　WAS　the　real　thing。　　All　her　dealings　with　me
and　all　her　husband's　were　an　implication　that　this　was　lucky　for
ME。　　Meanwhile　I　found　myself　trying　to　invent　types　that
approached　her　own；　instead　of　making　her　own　transform　itselfin
the　clever　way　that　was　not　impossible　for　instance　to　poor　Miss
Churm。　　Arrange　as　I　would　and　take　the　precautions　I　would；　she
always　came　out；　in　my　pictures；　too　talllanding　me　in　the
dilemma　of　having　represented　a　fascinating　woman　as　seven　feet
high；　which　（out　of　respect　perhaps　to　my　own　very　much　scantier
inches）　was　far　from　my　idea　of　such　a　personage。

The　case　was　worse　with　the　Majornothing　I　could　do　would　keep
HIM　down；　so　that　he　became　useful　only　for　the　representation　of
brawny　giants。　　I　adored　variety　and　range；　I　cherished　human
accidents；　the　illustrative　note；　I　wanted　to　characterise　closely；
and　the　thing　in　the　world　I　most　hated　was　the　danger　of　being
ridden　by　a　type。　　I　had　quarrelled　with　some　of　my　friends　about
it；　I　had　parted　company　with　them　for　maintaining　that　one　HAD　to
be；　and　that　if　the　type　was　beautifulwitness　Raphael　and
Leonardothe　servitude　was　only　a　gain。　　I　was　neither　Leonardo
nor　RaphaelI　might　only　be　a　presumptuous　young　modern　searcher；
but　I　held　that　everything　was　to　be　sacrificed　sooner　than
character。　　When　they　claimed　that　the　obsessional　form　could
easily　BE　character　I　retorted；　perhaps　superficially；　〃Whose？〃　　It
couldn't　be　everybody'sit　might　end　in　being　nobody's。

After　I　had　drawn　Mrs。　Monarch　a　dozen　times　I　felt　surer　even　than
before　that　the　value　of　such　a　model　as　Miss　Churm　resided
precisely　in　the　fact　that　she　had　no　positive　stamp；　combined　of
course　with　the　other　fact　that　what　she　did　have　was　a　curious　and
inexplicable　talent　for　imitation。　　Her　usual　appearance　was　like　a
curtain　whichshe　could　draw　up　at　request　for　a　capital
performance。　　This　performance　was　simply　suggestive；　but　it　was　a
word　to　the　wiseit　was　vivid　and　pretty。　　Sometimes　even　I
thought　it；　though　she　was　plain　herself；　too　insipidly　pretty；　I
made　it　a　reproach　to　her　that　the　figures　drawn　from　her　were
monotonously　（betement；　as　we　used　to　say）　graceful。　　Nothing　made
her　more　angry：　　it　was　so　much　her　pride　to　feel　she　could　sit　for
characters　that　had　nothing　in　common　with　each　other。　　She　would
accuse　me　at　such　moments　of　taking　away　her　〃reputytion。〃

It　suffered　a　certain　shrinkage；　this　queer　quantity；　from　the
repeated　visits　of　my　new　friends。　　Miss　Churm　was　greatly　in
demand；　never　in　want　of　employment；　so　I　had　no　scruple　in　putting
her　off　occasionally；　to　try　them　more　at　my　ease。　　It　was
certainly　amusing　at　first　to　do　the　real　thingit　was　amusing　to
do　Major　Monarch's　trousers。　　They　WERE　the　real　thing；　even　if　he
did　come　out　colossal。　　It　was　amusing　to　do　his　wife's　back　hair
it　was　so　mathematically　neatand　the　particular　〃smart〃　tension
of　her　tight　stays。　　She　lent　herself　especially　to　positions　in
which　the　face　was　somewhat　averted　or　blurred；　she　abounded　in
lady