Free Rodin's Lover by Heather Webb

sense of self. If God is all-loving, why would he wish for such a thing? If he exists, he does not reside here.”
    “You miss the point, sister.”
    Camille rubbed her hands together, the leather of her gloves slipping as they shimmied back and forth. “Have you become religious, then? Papa would laugh to hear such a thing. Perhaps that school is not so good for you after all.”
    Paul looked down at his boots, a sheepish expression marking his features. “Your skepticism doesn’t erase someone else’s faith, or God’s existence—if there is a God,” he added quickly.
    “Our family has been skeptical about religion our entire lives, and you as well as any.” Her brow furrowed.
    “Can we change the subject?” Paul glanced around the dim room and shuddered. “Let’s go. I feel as if—”
    “You feel his eyes upon you, do you?” she goaded him.
    He ignored her quip and hurried to the door.
    When had he turned into such a coward? Camille looked over her shoulder a last time. A shadow stretched from the altar’s crucifix across the floor. A shiver tingled along her spine.
    She felt the sudden need to escape as well, and hurried after Paul into the night.

    Camille wiped her hands and peered out the studio window. Something wasn’t quite right with her piece, but she couldn’t discern the issue. The sun beamed over the rooftop tiles, peeped in windowpanes, and flooded the alleyways between buildings. The sunshine did not fool her; her morning walk to classes and the atelier had been brisk, but she needed fresh air to clear her head. She untied her stained apron and tossed it over a chair.
    “I’m going for a walk,” she said to Amy and Emily, who looked up briefly and then retrained their eyes on their sculptures.
    Maria straightened from her awkward pose. “Finally.” She rotated her head back and forth to stretch her muscles. “I’ll break for luncheon and return in three hours.”
    “Three hours?” Camille looked at her with an incredulous expression. “I’ll lose too much light by then. An hour and a half at most.”
    Maria screwed her perfect mouth into a pout. “How am I to eat in such a short time? I’m meeting someone across town. Besides, I have been working for two hours already.”
    Anger overwhelmed Camille’s contemplative mood. She wouldn’t finish the piece before she ran out of money at this rate. Not to mention she would miss the submission deadline for the May Salon.
    “You’ve worked for two hours and expect three to repose?” She clenched her fists. “It seems you have forgotten I paid you for the entire day.”
    Maria pretended not to hear her, slipped into her undergarments, and reached for her vermillion day dress.
    “Let her go,” Amy said. “We kept her an extra hour last night.”
    “She stayed an extra hour because she had to stop five times yesterday!” Camille said. “And the day before she did not show at all.”
    “You don’t need to work her so hard.” Amy crossed her arms over her chest.
    “I only demand what I paid for!” Camille said. “If she is unable to fulfill the hours, she should not accept payment for them.”
    Emily exchanged looks with Amy as if a secret conversation had passed between them.
    “This arrangement is not working.” Camille threw her arms in the air. “It seems I am the only professional here.”
    Maria snorted. “As if a woman will get anywhere in the art world anyway.”
    “At this rate you won’t find me giving recommendations for your service!”
    Maria opened her mouth to speak, but Camille’s look froze her tongue in place.
    “I’m going out for a couple of hours.” Camille pulled on her wool cloak and gloves, and tucked her sketchbook under her arm. “I expect you to be here when I return.” She slammed the door behind her and lunged into the street.
    Maria had some nerve, demanding time off, more money, day in and day out. As soon as Camille finished this piece, she would seek a new model. Perhaps she