Hubert and mamma flirting! What a glorious jest! Isn't life a jest,
Hubert? Let's make a bargain! If you paint mamma, you paint me, also.
Then--you see--papa will not be jealous, and--and--" She was near tears
her mother felt, and she leaned over Hubert and took the girl's hand.
She grazed the long fingers of the painter, who at once caught both
feminine hands in his.
"Now I have you both," he boasted, and was shocked by a vicious tap on
the cheek--Berenice in rage pulled her left hand free. Silence ensued.
Hubert prudently began to roll another cigarette, and Madame Mineur
retreated out of the moonlight, while Berenice turned her back and soon
began to hum. The artist spoke first:
"See here, you silly Berenice, turn around! I want to talk to you like a
Dutch uncle--as we say in the United States. Of course I'll paint you.
But I begin with your mother. And if you wish me to like you better than
ever, don't say such things as you did. It hurts your--mother." His
voice dropped into its deepest bass. She faced him, and he saw the
glitter of wet eyelashes.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262