“‘Minicuccia was an excellent model, but very jealous. “Have you seen Rosa? What fine arms she has!” I said to her one day. “I have seen Rosaccia” she replied, “and I should have thought, Signorina, that a lady of your taste would have known better than to admire her arms. What are they in comparison with really fine arms—with mine, for instance?”
“‘One day Minicuccia was at a café, and some one admired the legs of another model. Forthwith she gathered up her petticoats, and danced with her legs perfectly bare all about the place. She was not a bad woman; on the contrary, she was a very moral one, and there was never a word against her, but she wanted to show what fine legs were. The police, however, heard of that escapade, and she was put in prison for a month afterwards for such an offence against the decenza pubblica. Poor Minicuccia!
“‘Then there was Nana, whom Lady Marian (Alford) painted so often, and whom she was so fond of. She was a magnificent woman. Dear Lady Marian used to say, “I would give anything to be able to come into a room with the grace and dignity of Nana.” Her dignity was natural to her. Another model once said to me, “I met that Nanaccia; she was walking down the Via Sistina as if it all belonged to her.”
“‘There was a very nice boy-model I had, Fortunato he was called. He is dead now—died of consumption, for he was always delicate. One day he said to me, “Last Sunday, Signorina, I went to the garden of the Cappuccini, and it is such a garden!—quite full of fruit, the most beautiful fruit. And the Fathers are so kind; they said I might eat as much as ever I liked; only think of that, Signorina!”—“Well, that was kind indeed; but what sort of fruit was it?”—“O, cipolle and lettuge,[499] Signorina—most delicious fruit.”
“‘Marietta was another model who came to me, a large handsome woman. One day I said to her, “Now, Marietta, I want you to look sad—tutta dolorosa.”—“What! lagrime, Signorina?”—“No,” I said, “only look sad; but if I wanted lagrime, could I have them too?”—“Sì, Signora: basta pensare a quel calzolajo chi m’a fatto pagare sette lire in vece di cinque, et piango subito.”[500]
“‘Marietta had a brother who managed her little business for her. I asked her if it would not be very easy for him to misappropriate a scudo now and then. “Facile sì,” she said, “essendo fratello.”
“‘Mariuccia lived to be old, and many is the dinner and paolo I have given her; but when she was fifteen or so, she was the model for Mr. Gibson’s ‘Psyche borne by the Zephyrs.’ She was always a wonderful model: no one could act or stand as she did.
“‘Then there was that woman who had the drunken husband, who used to beat her. One night he came in late and fell down dead drunk across the bed. She took her needle and thread, and sewed him up in the sheets so that he could not move, and then she took a stick, and beat him so that he died of it: she was imprisoned for some years for that, though.
“‘I asked one of the workmen what he did when every one was away. “Why, Signorina, I have the studio to clean out.”—“Well, I suppose that takes you half-an-hour; and what do you do then?”—“Ma, Signorina, sto a sedere.”—“And after your dinner, what do you do then?”—“Sto ancora a sedere, Signorina.”—“Well, and in the evening?”—“Ma, Signorina, continuo di stare a sedere.”