A look of haughty surprise flashed over the woman's too perfect features. Then, as her ear caught the tones of the violin, she half turned--but only for a moment.
"Very clever, isn't it," she said as she came forward "It must be old Professor Becker. He lives somewhere around here, I understand. They say he is very good."
The artist looked at her for an instant, in amazement Then, as his normal mind asserted itself, he burst into an embarrassed laugh.
At her look of puzzled inquiry, he said, "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Taine. I did not realize how harshly I greeted you. The fact is I--I was dreaming"--he turned suggestively toward the canvas upon the easel. "You see I was expecting you--I was thinking--then the music came--and--well--when you actually appeared in the flesh, I did not for the moment realize that it was really you."
"How charming of you!" she returned. "To be made the subject of an artist's dream--really it is quite the nicest compliment I have ever received. Tell me, do you like me in this?" she slipped the wrap she wore from her shoulders, and stood before him, gowned in the simple, gray dress of a Quaker Maid. Deliberately, she turned her beautiful self about for his critical inspection. Moving to and fro, sitting, half-reclining, standing--in various graceful poses she invited, challenged, dared, his closest attention--professional attention, of course--to every curve and detail.
In spite of its simplicity of color and line, the gown still bore the unmistakable stamp of the wearer's world. The severity of line was subtly made to emphasize the voluptuousness of the body that was covered but not hidden. The quiet color was made to accentuate the flesh the dress concealed only to reveal. The very lack of ornament but served to center the attention upon the charms that so loudly professed to scorn them. It was worldliness speaking in the quiet voice of religion. It was vulgarity advertising itself in terms of good taste. She had made modesty the handmaiden of blatant immodesty, and the daring impudence of it all fairly stunned the painter.
"Oh dear!" she said, watching his face, "I fear you don't like it, at all--and I thought it such a beautiful little gown. You told me to wear whatever I pleased, you know."