his Death of Savonarola, the
picture he was then at work upon. It was not the least of his grudges
against Jacqueline for insisting on having her portrait painted that it
obliged him to lay aside this really great work, that he might paint a
likeness.

"In ten minutes I shall be ready," said Jacqueline, obediently taking off
her hat.

"Why can't you stay as you are? That jacket suits you. Let us begin
immediately."

"No, indeed! What a horrid suggestion!" she cried, running up to the box
which was half open. "You'll see how much better I can look in a moment
or two."

"I put no faith in your fancies about your toilette. I certainly don't
promise to accept them."

Nevertheless, he left her alone with her Bernese governess, saying: "Call
me when you are ready, I shall be in the next room."

A quarter of an hour, and more, passed, and no signal had been given.
Marien, getting out of patience, knocked on the door.

"Have you nearly done beautifying yourself?" he asked, in a tone of
irony.

"Just done," replied a low voice, which trembled.

He went in, and to the great amusement of Fraulein Schult, who was not
too preoccupied to notice everything, he stood confounded--petrified, as
a man might be by some work of magic. What had become of Jacqueline? What
had she in common with that dazzling vision? Had she been touched by some
fairy's wand? Or, to accomplish such a transformation, had nothing been
needed but the substitution of a woman's dress, fitted to her person, for
the short skirts and loose waists cut in a boyish fashion, which had made
the little girl seem hardly to belong to any sex, an indefinite being,
condemned, as it were, to childishness? How tall, and slender, and
graceful she looked in that long gown, the folds of which fell from her
waist in flowing lines, a waist as round and flexible as the branch of a
willow; what elegance there was in her modest corsage, which displayed
for the first time her lovely arms and neck, half afraid of their own
exposure. She still was not robust, but the leanness that she herself had
owned to was not brought into prominence by any bone or angle, her dark
skin was soft and polished, the color of ancient statues which have been
slightly tinted yellow by exposure to the sun. This girl, a Parisienne,
seemed formed on the model of a figurine of Tanagra. Greek, too, was her
small head, crowned only by her usual braid of hair, which she had simply
gathered up so as to show