"Louis—I don't know."
"Is your opinion unfavourable?"
"N-no. I am like that, am I not?"
"In a shadowy way. It will be like you."
"Am I as—interesting?"
"More so," he said.
"Are you going to make me—beautiful?"
"Yes—or cut this canvas into shreds."
"Oh-h!" she exclaimed with a soft intake of breath; "would you have the heart to destroy me after you've made me?"
"I don't know what I'd do, Valerie. I never felt just this way about anything. If I can't paint you—a human, breathing you—with all of you there on the canvas—all of you, soul, mind, and body—all of your beauty, your youth, your sadness, happiness—your errors, your nobility—you, Valerie!—then there's no telling what I'll do."