Two days later Loswa entered the drawing-rooms of St. Pharamond, bearing with him a covered panel, which, after his ceremonious salutation of his hostess, he uncovered and placed on an unoccupied easel before her.
'Ah! my charming sea-born savage!' said Nadine as she approached it.
It still looked only a sketch, but it is a very sincere man who will display a sketch without touching it up and embellishing it, and Loswa was not sincere in that way, or in many others. He had copied his original drawing done upon the island, enlarging and improving it, and, though the portrait had the look of an impromptu creation, an impression vivid and masterly, it was in reality the product of many hours of painstaking labour and elaborate thought. Produced however it might be, it was one of the most brilliant studies which had ever come from his hand. It was not idealised or made artificial; it was the head of the girl as he had seen it in the full light of the morning on Bonaventure. The eyes had the frank, fearless, childish regard which hers had, and the whole face seemed speaking with courage, ardour, health, and imagination.
There was a chorus of admiration from all the great people who were there; it was her jour, and the rooms were full. Anything drawn by Loswa instantly elicited the homage of that world of fashion in which his powers were deemed godlike, and this sketch had qualities so rare and true that even his enemies and hostile critics would have been forced to concede to it a great triumph of art.
'You have succeeded,' said Nadine, as she put out her hand to him with a smile. 'You were right and I was wrong. You have painted the portrait without spoiling it by any affectations. No living painter could have done it better, and few dead ones.'
Loswa inclined his graceful person to the ground before her, and murmured his undying gratitude for the condescension of her praise.
'Tout de même, elle me le paiera,' he thought, remembering the words she had spoken to him on the sea-terrace.
'And how did Perseus find Andromeda?' she asked. 'It must be a story to be told in verse in the old fashion. Relate it!'
'There has been very little romance about it,' said Loswa, 'and Andromeda, alas! is contentedly going to marry a boat-builder, stout, ugly, and old!'
'My dear Loris, that will be for you to prevent,' said Nadine, still gazing at the sketch. 'I have never seen a face with more character or more suggestion. C'est un type, as the novelists say. If she do marry the boat-builder, he will have a stormy existence. There are daring and genius in her face. Come—sit there and narrate your adventures with her.'