Silence now reigned while the three-and-twenty artists struggled in the greatest possible haste to perpetuate her features.
Cornelia had watched the tumult absently; her thoughts were wandering far away, and the stillness that ensued was most welcome. She could give herself up to her dreams undisturbed. "She is marvelously beautiful!" suddenly cried one of the younger artists from his perch in the tree. Universal applause answered this naïve expression of delight. "The birds in the trees are singing your praises, Fräulein Erwing!" cried another. "Doesn't that flatter you?"
"Oh, certainly," she answered, smiling as indifferently as if she had not understood the compliment paid her.
"The best likeness will flatter her most," growled Richard Cœur de Lion from behind Cornelia. "Express your admiration by work instead of words, and she will value it more."
"Well growled, lion!" said the young enthusiast in the tree.
"Go on the stage and declaim verses; you are more fit for an actor than an artist," exclaimed Richard, without having the slightest suspicion that he was himself in his appearance the most theatrical of all; for naturalness, when carried too far, becomes as great a caricature as affectation, and the stage is certainly the home of caricatured forms.
"Come, gentlemen," cried Cornelia, laughing; "the time you spend in disputing you will lose in work; for I must tell you that I will not sit a moment longer than the two hours agreed upon! It is altogether too uncomfortable to endure the gaze of three-and-twenty pairs of eyes."
This threat re-established peace; for the artists once more devoted all their energy to their work, and henceforth nothing was heard but the wondering exclamations of several country people who stationed themselves here and there on the outskirts of the shaded spot to gaze at a proceeding utterly incomprehensible to them. The time agreed upon passed away, and Cornelia rose. Neither grumbling nor entreaties availed; she kept resolutely to her determination. The sketches were laid before her, and as she looked at them in succession she burst into a merry laugh. She saw her own face taken from some twenty different stand-points. "Dear me, can I be like all these?" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in astonishment. "If I ever knew how I looked, I should not from this day! Who can decide which of these many faces is mine? If this is, of course that can't be; and if this profile taken from the right is a good likeness, how can the one sketched from the left resemble me? The right side of my face must be entirely different from the left,--and that would be horribly abnormal. According to these profile views I should have two kinds of eyes, eyebrows, cheeks; nay, even my nose would consist of two dissimilar halves. Now, can you dispute this, gentlemen?"
The artists themselves could not help laughing as they looked at their pictures.
"Now you will get an idea of the variety and abundance of beauty your features possess, Fräulein Erwing," said one of the oldest of the group. "When compared with you the majority of the sketches seem passable likenesses, although so different from each other that one would almost doubt whether they all represented the same face."