He
was a fanatical lover of Poe, reading him in the Baudelaire translation,
and openly avowing his preference for the French version of the great
American's tales. That he could speak only five words of English did not
deter his associates from considering him a profound critic of
literature.
After his death his property and invested wealth passed into the hands
of his youthful widow, a charming lady, a native of Burgundy, and--if
gossip did not lie--a former model of the artist; indeed, some went so
far as to assert that her face could be seen in her late husband's
masterpiece--the figure of a young Greek slave attired as a joyous
bacchante. But her friends always denied this. Her dignified bearing,
sincere sorrow for her dead husband, and her motherly solicitude for her
daughter left no doubt as to the value of all petty talk. It was her
custom of summer evenings to walk to the pool, and with her daughter
Berenice she would sit on the broad wall and watch the moon rise, or
acknowledge the respectful salutations of the country folk with their
bran-speckled faces.
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