Free The Demon Lover by Victoria Holt Page B

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    This morning would tell us a great deal whether it was possible to carry out this plan or not. I was not sure what sort of miniature I could do from memory or from my father’s work. I was sure I could have made a superb portrait if I could have gone about it in the normal way. I would bring out his arrogance. I would capture that look which suggested that the whole world was his. I would paint in a little of the animosity I felt towards him. I would make a portrait which was absolutely him . and he might not like it.
    He talked while my father worked and mainly to me.
    Had I been to the Bavarian Court with my father? I told him I had not.
    He raised his eyebrows as though asking:
    Why not, since you came to Normandy?
    “Then you did not see the picture of the Grafin and her inner beauty?”
    “I very much regret not having seen it.”
    “I feel I have met you before. It must be in the miniature of the Unknown Woman. I suddenly feel she is unknown no longer.”
    “I look forward to seeing it.”
    “And I to showing it to you. How is it going, Monsieur Collison? Am I a good sitter? I look forward to seeing the work as it progresses.”
    “It is going well,” said my father.
    “And,” I added, ‘we make a rule that no one sees a miniature before it is finished. “
    “I don’t know if I shall agree to that rule.”
    “I am afraid it is necessary. You must give a painter a free hand to do what he wishes. To have your criticism now would be disastrous.”
    “What if it were praise?”
    “That, too, would be unwise.”
    “Do you always allow your daughter to lay down the rules, Monsieur Collison?”
    “It is my rule,” said my father.
    He told me then about certain paintings he possessed not all miniatures by any means.
    “How I shall enjoy gloating over my treasures to you, Mademoiselle Collison,” he added.
    After an hour my father laid down his brush. He had done enough for the morning, he said. Moreover, he guessed the Baron must be tired of sitting.
    The Baron rose and stretched himself, confessing that it was unusual for him to sit so long at one time.
    “How many sittings shall you need?” he asked.
    “I cannot say as yet,” replied my father.
    “Well, I must insist that Mademoiselle Collison remains with us so that she may divert me,” he said.
    “Very well,” I replied, perhaps too eagerly.
    “I shall be there.”
    He bowed and left us.
    I looked at my father. I thought he seemed very tired. He said: “The light is so strong.”
    “It is what we must have.”
    I studied the work he had done. It was not bad but I could detect an unsure stroke here and there.
    I said: “I have been studying him closely. I know his face well. I am sure I can work from what you have done and what I know of him. I think I had better start immediately and perhaps work always as soon as he has gone so that I have the details clearly in my mind. We’ll have to see how it goes. It will not be easy to work without a living model.”
    I started my picture. I could see his face clearly and it was almost as though he were sitting there. I was revelling in my work. I must get that faint hint of blue reflected from the coat into those cold steely eyes. I could see those eyes . alight with feeling. love of power, of course. lust. yes, there was sensuality about the mouth in abundance. Buccaneer, I thought.
    Norseman pirate. It was there in his face.
    “Ha! Rollo!” sailing up the Seine, pillaging, burning, taking the women . oh yes, certainly taking the women . and taking the land . building strong castles and holding them against all who came against him.
    I don’t think I ever enjoyed painting anyone as much as I enjoyed painting him. It was because of the unusual method, I suspected; and because I had a strong feeling of dislike for him. It was a great help to feel strongly about the subject. It seemed to breathe life into the paint.
    My father watched me while I worked.
    I laid down my brush at