He was perfectly cool,—cool as an artist analyzing a figure,—and he realized that the human countenance made up for its shortcomings in the way of perfection of feature solely by the expression of life.
"I have drawn more beautiful faces," he said to himself, "but they are not true. They do not think, they do not breathe, they do not love. It would be better that they should be less beautiful and more animate. When I roll up these canvases to-morrow, I will destroy them all, and then I will change them, and, it may be, overturn all the ideas which have guided me hitherto."
And he abandoned the quest for ideal perfection of form among the living dancers whom he was studying, to watch their movements, their grace, the attitudes of the body, the expression of the glance and smile; in a word, the secret of life.
Enchanted at first, he felt that he grew cold once more as he analyzed each being by itself. In all probability there are many ingenuous souls among women and among men; but there are very few ingenuous faces to be found at a ball in fashionable society. People there assume expressions which are almost always at variance with their characters, whether they are seeking to attract or to shun attention. Michel fancied that he could see that some were hypocritically concealing their vanity, while others arrogantly flaunted it; that this girl, who desired to seem amorous, was cold and blasé; that the gayety of that other was dismal, and the melancholy of a third a pretence. A parvenu strove to assume the air of a man of noble birth; a noble strove to adopt the bearing of a man of the people. Everybody posed more or less. The most humble tried to seem self-possessed, and even touching timidity struggled to avoid the awkwardness which triumphed over its efforts.
Michel saw several young mechanics of his acquaintance pass. They were performing the duties which they had undertaken, and they attracted attention by their manly appearance and by a touch of picturesqueness in their holiday attire. The majordomo had evidently selected them from among the most presentable, and they were well aware of it; for they, too, posed artlessly: one put forward each shoulder in turn to display its enormous breadth; another made the most of every inch of his great stature as he passed many a diminutive great personage; a third elevated the arch of his eyebrows to show the fair dames an eye as bright as a carbuncle.
Michel was surprised to see those honest fellows transform themselves so, and sacrifice the advantages of their natural dignity or their attractive exterior by an affectation, perhaps involuntary, but certainly ridiculous.—"I knew," he thought, "that all men eagerly sought approbation, to whatever class or profession they might belong. But why does this craving to attract attention suddenly deprive us of the charm or the dignity of our manners? Can it be that the desire is over-eager, or that the object is contemptible? Must beauty necessarily be unconscious of itself in order to lose nothing of its splendor? Or am I alone endowed with this intolerable clearness of vision? Where is the intense enjoyment that I expected to find here? Instead of following with interest the actions of other people, I am exerting myself to pass judgment in cold blood on everything that meets my eye, and to deprive myself of any external enjoyment!"
By dint of watching so closely and making so many comparisons, Michel had forgotten the main object of his presence at the ball. He remembered at last that he was especially desirous to study calmly a certain figure, and he was about to ascend the great staircase and wander about the interior of the palace, where all the rooms were open and lighted, When, happening to turn his head, he saw close at hand a detail of the decorations of which he had forgotten to observe the effect.
It was a rockwork grotto, which formed a recess of considerable size under the staircase. He had himself decorated with shellwork, branches of coral and picturesque plants, that cool retreat, at the farther end of which an alabaster naiad poured water from her urn into a huge shell, always brimming full of clear running water.
The taste Michel had displayed in all the details entrusted to him had induced the majordomo to allow him to arrange many things as he chose; and as this naiad had impressed him as a charming creation, he had taken pleasure in placing in her grotto the prettiest vases, the daintiest garlands and the finest rugs. He had spent a full hour surrounding the mother-of-pearl shell with a border of moss, as fine and soft as velvet, in selecting and arranging in graceful and charming disorder bunches of iris and water-lilies, and those long ribbon-like leaves which harmonize so perfectly with the undulating movement of running water.
Now the grotto was lighted by a pale light concealed behind the foliage; and as everybody was intent upon watching the dance, the entrance was unobstructed. Michel entered stealthily; but he had not taken three steps when he saw a person seated, or rather reclining, in the half-light, at the naiad's feet. He hastily concealed himself behind a jutting rock, and was about to retire; but an irresistible fascination detained him.