Such, unquestionably, was not Thérèse's purpose; but with Laurent, although he had resolved to encompass her with respect, it was hardly possible to conceal her mode of life. He could not renounce the outside world, and she must either let him return thither alone to his destruction or go with him to preserve him from destruction. He was accustomed to see the crowd and to be seen by it. When he had lived in retirement a single day, he fancied that he had fallen into a cellar, and shouted lustily for gas and sunlight.
In addition to this loss of consideration, Thérèse was called upon to make another sacrifice: she was no longer sure of her footing pecuniarily. Hitherto she had earned enough money by her work to live comfortably, but only by observing strict regularity in her habits, by looking carefully after her expenses, and by working faithfully and regularly. Laurent's passion for the unexpected soon straitened her. She concealed her position from him, being unwilling to refuse to sacrifice to him that priceless time which constitutes the larger part of the artist's capital.
But all this was simply the frame of a much gloomier picture, over which Thérèse threw a veil so thick that no one suspected her unhappiness, and her friends, scandalized or distressed by her situation, held aloof from her, saying:
"She is intoxicated. Let us wait until she opens her eyes; that will come very soon."
It had already come. Thérèse acquired more and more thoroughly every day the sad certainty that Laurent no longer loved her, or loved her so little that there was no further hope of happiness, either for him or for her, in their union. It was in Italy that they both became absolutely certain of the fact, and we are now to describe their journey thither.
[VI]
Laurent had long wanted to see Italy; it had been his dream from childhood, and the unhoped-for sale of certain of his paintings made it possible at last for him to realize that dream. He offered to take Thérèse, proudly displaying his little fortune, and swearing by all he held dear that, if she would not go with him, he would abandon the trip. Thérèse knew well that he would not abandon it without regret and without bitterly reproaching her. So she exerted her utmost ingenuity to obtain some money herself. She succeeded by pledging her future work; and they set out late in the autumn.
Laurent had formed some very erroneous ideas concerning Italy, and expected to find spring in December as soon as he caught sight of the Mediterranean. He had to acknowledge his error, and to suffer from a very sharp attack of frosty weather on the trip from Marseille to Genoa. Genoa pleased him immensely, and as there were many pictures to see there, as it was the principal object of the journey so far as he was concerned, he readily agreed to stay there one or two months, and hired furnished apartments.
After a week, Laurent had seen everything, and Thérèse was just beginning to settle down to painting; for it should be said here that she was obliged to work. In order to obtain a few thousand-franc notes, she had made an agreement with a dealer in pictures to bring him copies of several unpublished portraits, which he proposed to have engraved. It was not an unpleasant task; the dealer, being a man of taste, had specified a number of portraits by Van Dyck, one at Genoa, one at Florence, etc. The copying of that master required a special gift, by virtue of which Thérèse had developed her own talent and earned a livelihood before she undertook to paint portraits on her own account; but she must needs begin by obtaining permission from the owners of those masterpieces; and, although she exerted herself to the utmost, a whole week passed before she was able to begin to copy the portrait at Genoa.
Laurent felt in nowise disposed to copy anything under heaven. His individuality was too pronounced and too fiery for that sort of work. He was benefited in other ways by the sight of great works. That was his right. And yet, many a great master, having so excellent an opportunity, would have been likely to take advantage of it. Laurent was not yet twenty-five years of age, and might still learn. That was Thérèse's opinion, who also saw an opportunity for him to increase his pecuniary resources. If he would have condescended to copy a Titian,—who was his favorite among the masters,—there was no doubt that the same dealer who had commissioned Thérèse would have bought it or found a purchaser for it. Laurent considered that an absurd idea. So long as he had money in his pocket, he could not conceive how one could descend from the lofty realms of art so far as to think of gain. He left Thérèse absorbed in contemplation of her model, joking her a little in anticipation on the Van Dyck she was going to paint, and trying to dishearten her with the terrible task she had the courage to undertake. Then he roamed about the city, sorely perplexed as to how he should employ the six weeks which Thérèse had asked for the completion of her work.