The Iola register., 1891-07-31
THE ARTIST HIS WIFE AND HIS
MODEL
The Tender and Pathetic Little Romance
which Is True to Artists Lives as
to the Heart of q Devoted Woman.

The Tender and Pathetic Little Romance
which Il True to Artists Lives as
to the Heart of . Devoted Woman.
What it has cost me to marry an ar
tist. Oh, my dear! II I had known!
But the young girls have singular ideas
about so many things. Just imagine
that at the exhibition, when l read in
the catalogue the addresses of far away
quite streets at the futher end Of Paris
l pictured to my self p9aceable' stay at
home lives, devoted to work and the
family circle, and l said to myself feel
ing beforehand certainty thatl should
be dreadfully JEALOUSY: THAT is the sort
of husband to suit me. He will always
he with me. We shall spend our days
together, he at his picture or sculpture.
while | read or sew beside him in the
concentrated light OF the studio" Poor
dear Innocent! | had not the fainteSt
idea then what studio really was, nor
of the singular creatures one meets
there. Never, in gazing at those stat
ues of bold, undressed godesses, had
the idea occurred to me that there were
women daring enugh tO-and that even
| myself-.Otherwise, can assure
you, | should never have married a
scuintc- No. indeed, most decidedly
not, | must own, the wera all against
this marriage at home; notwlthstaIl- i
ing my husbands fortune, his already
famous name and the fine house he was
having built for us two. 1t was | alone
who would have it so. He was so ele-
CANT, SO charming, so eager, thought,
however, ::he meddled little too much
about my dress, and the arrangement OF
my hair: ''Do your hair like this; so" "
and he could amuse himself by placing
flower in the midst of my curls with
far greater skill then anv one OF our
milliners. So much experience in a
man was alarming. wasn't it? | ought
to have distrusted him. Well, you will
see. Listen.
We returned from our honey moon.
While was busy settling myself in my
pretty and charmingly furnished rooms,
that paradise you know so we'll, my hus-
band, from the moment Of his arrival,
had set to work and spent the days at
his studio, which was away from the
house. When he returned in the even
ing he would talk to me with feverish
eagerness of his next subject for ex-
hibition. The subject was ga Roman
Lady Leaving the Bath" He wanted
the marble to reproduce that faint
shiver of the skin at the contact OF air,
The moisture of the delicate textures
clinging to the shoulders, and all sorts
OF other fine things which | no longer
remember. Between you and me when
he speaks to me of his sculpture | dc
not always understand him very well.
However, / used to say confidently: SIT
will be very pretty" and already saw
myself treading the finely sanded walks
admiring my husbands work. beauti
full marble sculpture cleaning white
against the green hangings; while be-
hind. me heard whispered: "The wife
OF the sculptor"
At last one day, curious to see how
our Roman lady was getting on the
idea occurred to me to 60 and take him
by surprise in his studio which | had
not vet visited. 1t was one of the first
times had gone out alone, and had
made myself very smart can tell you.
When | arrived | found the door OF
the little garden leading to the ground
floor wide open. So | walked straight
in, and, conceive my Indignation when
Il
like stone mason, his hands grimed
with clay, and In front of him upright
on a platform, a woman. my dear, a
great creature, almost undressed, and
looking just as composed in this airy
costume as though it was perfectly
natural. Her wretched clothes covered
with mud, thick walking boots and a
round hat trimmed with q feather out
It h-; do h4, n
chair. All this saw in an instant, for
you may imagine how fed. Etienne
would have spoken to me-detained me
but with a gesture of horror at the clay
covered hands rushed off to mamma
and reached her barely alive. You can
imagine my appearance.
Good heavens, my dear child; what
is the matter?"
related to mamma what | had seen,
where this dreadful woman was and in
what costume. And | cried and cried.
My mother, much moved tried to console
me, explained to me that it must have
been model.
"What! but it is abominable; no one
ever Told me about that before L was
married.
Hereupon Etinenne arrived, greatly
distressed, and tried in his turn to make
me understand that a model is not a wo-
man like other women. and that besides
sculptors cannot get along without them
but these reasons had no effect upon me
and | stoutly declared l would have
nothing to do with husband who spent
his days tete-a-tete with young ladies
in such costume.
''Come, my Etienne, said poor mamma
trying hard to arrange everything
peaceably, could you not out of re-
spect for your wife's feelings replace this
creature by dummy, a lay figure?"
Ny husband bit his moustache fu-
riOusly.
Quite impossible, dear mother"
'Still, my dear, 1t seems to me-a
bright idea-milliners have pasteboard
heads on which they trim bonnets. Well
what can be done for head could it not
be done for-?" 1t seems this is not
possible. At least this is what Etienne
tried-to demonstrate at great length
with all sorts of details and technical
words. He really looked unhappy. !
watched him out OF the corner of nv
eye while dried my tears, and l saw
that my grief affected him deeply. AT
last, after an endless discussion, it was
agreed that since the model was indis-
pensable,,I should be there whenever she
came. There chancsd to be on one side
of the studio very convenient little
lumber room, from which / could see
without being seen. | ought to be
ashamed, you will say, of being jealous;
but, my pet, you must have gone
through these emotions before you can
| offer an opinion about them.
Next day the model was to be there.
therefore summoned up my courage
and installed myself in the hiding place