"Of course, he cannot help doing so. But he is said to be one of the quietest among them, according to Rosenbusch. Upon my life, I would just like to peep through the keyhole once! 'Oh, had I a jacket and trousers and hat!'"
"Why, Angelica, you have the true woman's-rights ideas!"
The painter drew a deep sigh.
"Julie," she said, with comical solemnity, "that is just the misfortune of my life, that two souls dwell in this breast--a timid, old-maidish, conservative girl's soul by the side of a very bold, dare-devil, Bohemian artist's temperament. Tell me, did you never in your life experience a strong desire to cut loose for once from propriety--to do something thoroughly reckless, improper, unpermissible? Of course I mean when one was entirely among boon companions, and no one could reprove the other, because all were possessed of the same demon. The men fare well in this respect. When they steal back again into the lost Paradise, they call it a sign of genius. An unfortunate woman, though she were ten times an artist, and as such perpetually inclined not to be a Philistine, must never let it be seen in her manner of life that she can do more than darn stockings!--It is true," she continued, thoughtfully, "as for women in a body, a whole swarm of talented women--no matter how much capacity some among them might have for such a thing--I myself would decline such a Paradise with thanks. Now, why is that? Does it really amount to this, that we cannot exist by ourselves alone; that we can neither plan nor bring about anything successful?"
"Perhaps it merely arises from the fact that true friendship, real thorough companionship, is so rare among our sex," answered Julie, musingly. "We are just as loath to permit another to shine among ourselves as before the men. But something has just occurred to me; might not we take advantage of the occasion, and, as you recently proposed, take a look at Jansen's studio?"
"And why not rather when he is there himself? He would undoubtedly be very happy--"
"No, no!" interposed Julie, hastily, "I will not do that. I have invariably played such a silly part in studios--because it is impossible for me to bring myself to pay a trivial compliment--that I have sworn never again to visit an artist surrounded by his works. You know it is my Cordelia-like character--whenever my heart is full my mouth refuses to overflow."
"Foolish woman!" laughed the artist, hastily wiping her brush and preparing herself to go out. "You of the public always imagine that we want to hear eulogies. When you lose the power of speech from admiration, and make the most foolish and enraptured faces, I like you a thousand times better."
Angelica called the janitor, who was busily engaged in the yard brushing away the moths from an old piece of Gobelin tapestry that Rosenbusch had recently bought. While he went off to fetch the key to the studio, she whispered to her friend:
"We will not go first into the saint-factory, but pass at once into the holy of holies! It is always painful to see how even such an artist--one of the few great ones--must use his art to gain bread. It is true, no human being can imagine why he really has to do it. He needs almost nothing for himself. And, since he stands quite alone in the world--to be sure, though, that needs yet to be proved--his saints must bring him in a great deal of money. What he does with it, whether he buries it as the wages of sin, walls it up, or speculates with it on the Bourse-- But here comes our old factotum with the key. Thank you, Fridolin. Here is something for your trouble. Drink a measure to the health of this beautiful lady. What, she pleases you too? To be sure you have had an opportunity to cultivate your taste, living as you do among artists."