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Authors: Victoria Holt
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literature, sculpture, music, or painting . I have always believed in absolute honesty regarding them. I know you will agree with me, Monsieur Collison. All great artists must. I do not like because I am told I must like. A work of art must please me. I think it is a disservice to art to abandon honesty for the sake of being in the fashion. I like a work of art for what it means to me . not for the signature in the corner if it is a picture, or on the cover of a book if it is literature. “
I couldn’t help applauding this sentiment. I would remind him of it if he were to discover I, a woman, had painted his portrait-that would be after he had expressed approval of it, of course.
“You are quite right, Baron,” said Madame St. Giles.
“I could not agree more.”
He looked at her mischievously.
“In your case, Nicole, it might be wiser to take note of the name of the artist … because, my dear, I’m afraid you lack the judgement to decide for yourself Nicole laughed.
“The Baron is right, you know,” she said, looking at me and my father.
“You will find me a complete ignoramus. One virtue I have, though. I am aware of my ignorance. So many people are completely oblivious of theirs. Now this is a virtue, is it not?”
“A very great one,” said the Baron.
“Ah, if only everyone had your good sense.”
“But who is to say whose judgement is to be respected?” I asked.
“There is a saying in my country that ” Good taste is what I have. Bad taste is what everyone else has who does not agree with me. “
“I see we have a philosopher here,” said the Baron, fixing me with his cold grey eyes.
“Answer that if you can, Nicole, for I cannot attack such logic.”
Then he talked to my father. We would start the portrait the following morning. He was anxious to get it completed quickly and could not stay long at the castle. He had business in Paris.
“A work of art cannot be hurried,” I said.
“I see now why you have brought your daughter with you,” retorted the Baron.
“She is going to keep us all in good order.”
“Oh, Kate is very useful to me,” said my father.
“I have come to rely on her.”
“Everyone should have someone on whom he or she can. rely. Don’t you agree, Nicole? Mademoiselle Collison? Bertrand?”
Bertrand said that it was comforting.
Madame St. Giles said it was necessary.
I said I thought that one should be self reliant if that were possible.
“As you are, Mademoiselle Collison, I see. How do you work, Monsieur Collison? I did so admire the miniature you did of the Grafvon Engheim. I saw it when I was in Bavaria. In fact it was what decided me that I would ask you to execute this commission for me.”
“The Gratis a charming man,” said my father.
“It was &’ very pleasant stay in the Black Forest. What an enchanting^ place that is. I shall never forget it.” j “I liked, too, the one you did of the Grafin. You made her look like a princess of romance.”
“A beautiful woman …”
“I thought her features very irregular.”
“An inner beauty,” mused my father.
“Difficult to define in words.”
“But you captured it in paint. An ether al quality … yes. It gave a suggestion of goodness. A lovely piece of work. I can tell you the Graf was delighted. He showed it to me with great pride.”
My father beamed with pleasure.
“I hope that you will be equally pleased, Baron,” he said.
“I must be. I want the best you have ever done. My Collison must be supreme. I already have one Collison in my collection. You must see my miniatures. This one dates back … according to the costume … to the mid-seventeenth century. I fancy it was painted just after that time when the Roundheads were making such havoc in your country … as the mob did for us not so long ago. That miniature is one of my most highly prized.”
“Do you know who the subject is?”
“No. It is just called An Unknown Woman. But there is the distinctive KC. in the
I couldn’t help applauding this sentiment. I would remind him of it if he were to discover I, a woman, had painted his portrait-that would be after he had expressed approval of it, of course.
“You are quite right, Baron,” said Madame St. Giles.
“I could not agree more.”
He looked at her mischievously.
“In your case, Nicole, it might be wiser to take note of the name of the artist … because, my dear, I’m afraid you lack the judgement to decide for yourself Nicole laughed.
“The Baron is right, you know,” she said, looking at me and my father.
“You will find me a complete ignoramus. One virtue I have, though. I am aware of my ignorance. So many people are completely oblivious of theirs. Now this is a virtue, is it not?”
“A very great one,” said the Baron.
“Ah, if only everyone had your good sense.”
“But who is to say whose judgement is to be respected?” I asked.
“There is a saying in my country that ” Good taste is what I have. Bad taste is what everyone else has who does not agree with me. “
“I see we have a philosopher here,” said the Baron, fixing me with his cold grey eyes.
“Answer that if you can, Nicole, for I cannot attack such logic.”
Then he talked to my father. We would start the portrait the following morning. He was anxious to get it completed quickly and could not stay long at the castle. He had business in Paris.
“A work of art cannot be hurried,” I said.
“I see now why you have brought your daughter with you,” retorted the Baron.
“She is going to keep us all in good order.”
“Oh, Kate is very useful to me,” said my father.
“I have come to rely on her.”
“Everyone should have someone on whom he or she can. rely. Don’t you agree, Nicole? Mademoiselle Collison? Bertrand?”
Bertrand said that it was comforting.
Madame St. Giles said it was necessary.
I said I thought that one should be self reliant if that were possible.
“As you are, Mademoiselle Collison, I see. How do you work, Monsieur Collison? I did so admire the miniature you did of the Grafvon Engheim. I saw it when I was in Bavaria. In fact it was what decided me that I would ask you to execute this commission for me.”
“The Gratis a charming man,” said my father.
“It was &’ very pleasant stay in the Black Forest. What an enchanting^ place that is. I shall never forget it.” j “I liked, too, the one you did of the Grafin. You made her look like a princess of romance.”
“A beautiful woman …”
“I thought her features very irregular.”
“An inner beauty,” mused my father.
“Difficult to define in words.”
“But you captured it in paint. An ether al quality … yes. It gave a suggestion of goodness. A lovely piece of work. I can tell you the Graf was delighted. He showed it to me with great pride.”
My father beamed with pleasure.
“I hope that you will be equally pleased, Baron,” he said.
“I must be. I want the best you have ever done. My Collison must be supreme. I already have one Collison in my collection. You must see my miniatures. This one dates back … according to the costume … to the mid-seventeenth century. I fancy it was painted just after that time when the Roundheads were making such havoc in your country … as the mob did for us not so long ago. That miniature is one of my most highly prized.”
“Do you know who the subject is?”
“No. It is just called An Unknown Woman. But there is the distinctive KC. in the
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