I was at my wit's end, and the young ladies saw it. They all
surrounded my unmanageable sitter, and appealed to her compassion
for me. "Certainly!" said mademoiselle, expressing astonishment
by flinging up both her hands with all the fingers spread out in
the air. "But why apostrophize me thus? I am here, I am ready, I
am at the service of this skillful artist. Why apostrophize me?"
A fortunate chance question of mine steadied her for some time. I
inquired if I was expected to draw the whole of my sitter's
figure as well as her face. Mademoiselle replied by a comic
scream of indignation. If I was the brave and gifted man for whom
she took me, I ought to be ready to perish rather than leave out
an inch of her anywhere. Dress was her passion, and it would be
an outrage on her sentiments if I did not do full justice to
everything she had on--to her robe, to her lace, to her scarf, to
her fan, to her rings, her jewels, and, above all, to her
bracelets. I groaned in spirit at the task before me, but made my
best bow of acquiescence. Mademoiselle was not to be satisfied by
a mere bow; she desired the pleasure of specially directing my
attention, if I would be so amiable as to get up and approach
her, to one of her bracelets in particular--the bracelet with the
miniature, on her left wrist. It had been the gift of the dearest
friend she ever had, and the miniature represented that friend's
beloved and beautiful face.
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