As he went in, Julia was saying: “Leo, it’s simply marvellous! Amazing!”
He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, just stood staring at the figure who stood facing him. Stared as if he could not believe what he saw.
The figure was Mitsi.
She stood on the model’s daïs, and about her was draped some clinging material. It revealed every line of her figure, while it cunningly enhanced the soft and alluring curves of her slim, enchantingly graceful body.
Her head was thrown back and turned to one side so that her profile and the curve of her slender neck were clear cut against the light. He caught his breath at the pure beauty of it.
Julia’s and her brother’s backs were turned to him. Leo worked carefully at the huge canvas which stood beside the girl. His sister watched in an attitude of tense absorption the strong, decisive movements of his brush.
Mitsi’s eyes were closed, and none of them heard him enter.
He found his voice, and went towards them. “May I see?”
Julia swept round to greet him, and Mitsi uttered a little cry, turning her head to him as she did so.
Leo muttered: “Of course, you would have to come in and upset her! Don’t take any notice of him, Mitsi, my girl, and turn your head again!”
Larry stood beside Julia.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she breathed.
He nodded, astonished. Surprised as he was by the living picture of the girl who confronted him, the picture on the canvas completely took his breath away.
Leo had performed a miracle.
He had painted Mitsi as she was, posed on the daïs. But he had done more than that. More than emphasized the beauty and the seductive symmetry of her with skilfully applied colours, shadows and highlights.
He had transformed her face.
Simply by changing the colour of her hair from nondescript mouse colour to pale, shimmering gold, he had given her a new face. Brought out the contour of her cheeks to fascinating perfection by slanting her eyebrows slightly, by careful shading. Her mouth was warm and soft. Her eyes deep, mysterious pools.
Yet, despite his brilliant effect, Leo had remained absolutely faithful in essentials to his model. Had simply stripped off her dowdy, disfiguring clothes. Given her face a golden halo of hair, subtly added a new beauty to her features.
The resemblance remained, definite and unmistakable. It was Mitsi who gazed at Larry from the canvas.
Mitsi Linden re-created.
“It’s—it’s terrific!”
“You like it, eh Larry?” asked Leo. “Mmmhhhmmm!” he breathed slowly through his nostrils. “What about the bone-structure, now?”
“The bone-structure impresses me beyond words!”
“Little girl into glamorous lady!” murmured Julia. She spoke very softly and almost to herself—but Larry caught her remark. Repeated the last two words.
“Glamorous lady!”
And suddenly, inspiration burst upon him. Born of those two words, of the magnificent painting before him. He pushed his hands through his hair with a gesture of suppressed excitement. Stared at the picture, at its original, and back again.
“For Pete’s sake, Julia, you’ve said a mouthful! Why not?… Why not?”
“Why not what?”
Ignoring her question, he said quickly to Leo:
“Forgive me, old man, but I must interrupt!” and turned to Mitsi.
“You sing, don’t you? You do! You must do!”
She stared at him in bewilderment.
“Sing? I—I—”
“You DO! You’ve got to, I say!”
“A little, yes. Mother used to give me lessons. But—”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Julia.
But he didn’t hear her.
“Splendid! Splendid!” Turning to Julia and gripping her shoulder: “Quickly, the piano!” Swinging her round to where a baby grand stood in a corner of the studio.
“Larry—!”
“Yes, yes, I know! I’m crazy, but never mind! An idea’s hit me!”
She gazed at him at a loss for words, and he pushed her towards the grand.
“The piano, my dear!” He plumped her firmly down, lifted the lid, raised her hands to the keyboard. “Play!”
“Play what?”
“Anything! Anything! Just a moment!” To Mitsi: “What do you know?”
“Know—?”
“What can you sing?”
“N-n-now—?”
“This very minute! Come here!”
She looked from him to Leo, working oblivious to the excitement, at his easel.
“Oh, don’t worry about him!” Larry cried impatiently. With a swift movement he crossed to the daïs, lifted her in his arms and carried her to the piano, and sat her on it.
“Now, I’m serious! Sing any song you know—in French, in English, Greek, Armenian, Portuguese—anything!”
His dynamic force communicated itself to the two women. Awakened an answering thrill in them.
Mitsi hesitated, looked at Julia and at him, eyes wide with wonder, a puzzled frown on her brow.
“B-but why must I sing?” she stammered.
“Sing!”
“Larry, you’re being very cruel,” objected Julia. “The child doesn’t want to sing—”
“Shut up!” He watched the girl, an expression of combined appeal and command on his face.
Her lips twitched with laughter that was hysterical. He stopped her with a word.
“Mitsi!” Then very quietly: “This is serious!”
She gulped.
“I know—‘J’Attendrai’. I can’t think of anything else—”
“That’s fine! Julia—play!”
Mitsi moistened her lips, gripped the edge of the piano and took a deep breath. Opened her mouth, wavered on the first notes, then began the famous song. She sang in French, a little haltingly at first, then she gained confidence, relaxed and her voice came more easily.
Leo turned from his canvas to listen. Larry stood perfectly still staring out of the window.
Her voice was unexpectedly deep. Its throatiness had a peculiar warmth about it. With each word its appeal became more and more pronounced.
After a moment Larry stopped looking out of the window to gaze at her. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. She sang softly, almost whispered the words—her accent giving them a quaintness which added to the undoubted charm of her voice.
There was a little silence when the song was over. Julia looked at her with a half-smile of pleasure. Then Leo broke the tension with:
“Bravo! Bravo, Mitsi! That was charming!”
Larry stepped to her, took her hand as she turned to him with a tremulous smile.
“Lovely, lovely!”
And: “Very, very nice!”