"Are you sitting to any one else?" I asked mechanically.
"No. I give the rest of my time to my family. We are very poor. My mother and father are old. I am their sole support."
I waved my hand impatiently. All models tell you that. One gets so tired of it.
"What do you want an hour? I will take all your time. You must not sit to any one else."
Her eyes gleamed, and the lovely crimson mouth pouted.
"Five shillings an hour if you take the five hours a day," she answered.
"I suppose you know that's double the ordinary price?" I said smiling. "However, I don't mind. I'll pay you if I find you sit well. Take off your hat now and sit down—anywhere. I want just to make a rough sketch of your head."
She obeyed, and I drew out some large paper sheets and found a piece of charcoal. Sitting down opposite her, I gazed at her meditatively. Now that her hat had been removed I could see the extraordinary wealth and beauty of her hair. It was black with lights of red and gold fire in it, and fell in its own natural waves and curls and clusters all about her small head and smooth white forehead.
What about a Bacchante? She was a perfect study for that. I always imagined—perhaps from seeing antiques, where it is so represented, that the head of a Bacchante should have hair like this; and it is rare enough in English models. Suppose I made a large picture—The Death of Pentheus—the king in Euripides' tragedy of the Bacchæ who in his efforts to put down the Bacchanalia was slain by the enraged Bacchantes. Suppose I put this one in the foreground…. But then it seemed a pity to spoil such a lovely face with a look of rage…. Well, anyway, let me have a sketch first, and see what inspiration came to me. I got up and looked amongst my odd possessions for a vine-leaf wreath I had. When I found it and some ivy leaves, I came back to her and fastened them round her head, in and out of those wonderful vine-like tendrils of hair. She sat demurely enough and very still while I did so, but when I wanted to unfasten the ugly modern bodice and turn it down from her throat so as to get the head well poised and free, she pressed her lips on my hand as it passed round her neck.
I drew my hand away.