Edith Wharton - SSC 10 Read Online Free PDF

final picture. If Mrs. Targatt cared to accept one—”
                 Targatt
flushed to the roots of his thinning hair. A Svengaart study over the
drawing-room mantelpiece! (“Yes—nice thing of Nadeja, isn’t it? You’d know a
Svengaart anywhere… It was his own idea; he insisted on doing her…”) Nadeja was
just lifting a pile of music from the top of the grand piano. She was going to
accompany Mouna, who had taken to singing. As she stood with lifted arms,
profiled against the faint hues of the tapestried wall, the painter exclaimed:
“There—there! I have it! Don’t you see now why I want to do her?”
                 But
Targatt, for the moment, could not speak. Secretly he thought Nadeja looked
much as usual—only perhaps a little more tired; she had complained of a
headache that morning. But his courage rose to the occasion. “Ah, my wife’s
famous ‘lines’, eh? Well, well, I can’t promise—you’d better come over and try
to persuade her yourself.”
                 He
was so dizzy with it that as he led Svengaart toward the piano the Bellamys’
parquet floor felt like glass under his unsteady feet.
                   
     
  VII.
 
 
                 Targatt’s
rapture was acute but short-lived. Nadeja “done” by Axel Svengaart—he had
measured the extent of it in a flash. He had stood aside and watched her with a
deep smile of satisfaction while the light of wonder rose in her eyes; when she
turned them on him for approval he had nodded his assent. Of course she must
sit to the great man, his glance signalled back. He saw that Svengaart was
amused at her having to ask her husband’s permission; but this only intensified
Targatt’s satisfaction. They’d see, damn it, if his wife could be ordered about
like a professional model! Perhaps the best moment was when, the next day, she
said timidly: “But, Jim, have you thought about the price?” and he answered,
his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his lips: “There’s no price to think
about. He’s doing you for the sake of your beautiful ‘lines’. And we’re to have
a replica, free gratis. Did you know you had beautiful lines, old Nad ?”
                 She
looked at him gravely for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about them for a long
time,” she said.
                 Targatt
laughed and tapped her on the shoulder. What a child she was! But afterward it
struck him that she had not been particularly surprised by the painter’s
request. Perhaps she had always known she was paintable, as Svengaart called
it. Perhaps—and here he felt a little chill run over him—perhaps Svengaart had
spoken to her already, had come to an understanding with her before making his
request to Targatt. The idea made Targatt surprisingly uncomfortable, and he
reflected that it was the first occasion in their married life when he had
suspected Nadeja of even the most innocent duplicity. And this, if it were
true, could hardly be regarded as wholly innocent…
                 Targatt
shook the thought off impatiently. He was behaving like the fellow in
“Pagliacci”. Really this associating with foreigners might end in turning a
plain business man into an opera-singer! It was the day of the first sitting,
and as he started for his office he called back gaily to Nadeja: “Well, so
long! And don’t let that fellow turn your head.”
                 He
could not get much out of Nadeja about the sittings. It was not that she seemed
secretive; but she was never very good at reporting small talk, and things that
happened outside of the family circle, even if they happened to herself , always seemed of secondary interest to her. And
meanwhile the sittings went on and on. In spite of his free style Svengaart was
a slow worker; and he seemed to find Nadeja a difficult subject. Targatt began
to brood over the situation: some people thought the fellow handsome, in