He led her to talk of the world in which she lived--of the
scandals and intrigues among those of her class who hold such enviable
positions in life. He drew from her the philosophies and beliefs and
religions of her kind. He encouraged her to talk of art--to give her
understanding of the world of artists as she knew it, and to express her
real opinions and tastes in pictures and books. He persuaded her to throw
boldly aside the glittering, tinsel garb in which she walked before the
world, and so to stand before him in all the hideous vulgarity, the
intellectual poverty and the moral depravity of her naked self.
At times, when, under his intense gaze, she drew the cloak of her
pretenses hurriedly about her, he sat before his picture without touching
the canvas, waiting; or, perhaps, he paced the floor; until, with
skillful words, her fears were banished and she was again herself. Then,
with quick eye and sure, ready hand, he wrought into the portrait upon the
easel--so far as the power was given him--all that he saw in the face of
the woman who--posing for him, secure in the belief that he was painting a
lie--revealed her true nature, warped and distorted as it was by an age
that, demanding realism in art, knows not what it demands.
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