"To-day, immediately," answered Svirski, pointing to the picture already begun. "There is the screen; go behind, undress to the waist only. Thou wilt sit for the head, the bosom, and a part of the stomach."
She turned to him an astonished face; her hands dropped slowly along her dress.
"How is that, sir?" asked she, looking at him with terrified eyes.
"My child," answered the artist, a little impatiently, "I understand that it may be difficult the first time. But either thou art a model, or thou art not. I need the head, the bosom, and a part of the stomach; I need these absolutely; dost thou understand? And be sure, at the same time, that there is nothing bad in me; but, first of all, think it over—and quickly; for, if thou art not willing, I shall look for another."
He spoke as a man somewhat vexed; for in his mind the point was that just she should be the model, and that he should not have to look for another. Meanwhile silence came. The model grew pale very evidently; still, after a while, she went behind the screen.
Svirski fell to pushing the easel toward the window, with a noise, thinking, meanwhile,—
"She will gain the habit, and in a week will laugh at her scruples."
Next, he arranged the sofa on which the model was to lie, took his brush, and began to grow impatient.
"Well, how is it? Art thou ready?"
Silence.