“Stuff!” Erard cut her short irritably. “I might teach to-day what I should deny to-morrow. Use your own wits, and hold your tongue. There is nothing so wonderful about art—in certain aspects, no Eleusinian mystery.”
She was afraid to make another remark lest she might blunder. What Mr. Simeon Erard judged to be stupid was coming to have an immense weight with her. She felt grateful to him for not snubbing her badly.
CHAPTER V
Miss Anthon continued to spend a few desultory hours in the fashionable studio behind the Madeleine. Erard’s raillery made the work appear more futile than ever, yet the engagement was a convenient excuse. At least once a day she could escape from Mrs. Anthon’s rasping companionship, and the dressmakers and milliners and aimless scurryings to and fro. Her uncle Sebastian had hinted, also, that the first sign of restlessness on her part would precipitate a move to Nice, or some other watering-place. And, so long as Erard condescended to take an interest in her case, she was loth to leave Paris.
On brisk days, when the pervasive fog was lifted up and shoved behind the surrounding hills, Miss Anthon gave Jerome’s the slip and snatched a few hours for long walks. In this way she had taken Wilbur out to the little house in Passy where Miss Molly Parker spent the burden of the day over Mrs. Ormiston Dexter’s children. Wilbur and Miss Parker had dashed into a surprising intimacy from the first. Miss Anthon watched enviously the skilful American girl lead Wilbur through his most stalwart paces.
One could not help being intimate with this young woman. She was like a green field in June; when she smiled one felt at home, as one did in nature.
“You are so immensely human,” Miss Anthon had been moved to say, as they left, taking Miss Parker’s hands and looking into her startled eyes.
“Why? I’m just like the others,” Miss Parker replied, troubled.
“With a difference,” Miss Anthon sighed. “It’s all straight to you; there is no doubt, no hesitation.”
“Oh, lots! I am awfully poor, and if it weren’t for Aunt Nan, I’d have to teach school or keep books or—get married.”