She preferred to find him alone in these visits,
painting from his fancy without any other model than some clothes placed
on a manikin. She felt a sort of aversion to models, and Renovales tried
in vain to convince her of the necessity of using them. He had talent to
paint beautiful things without resorting to the assistance of those
ordinary old men and above all, of those women with their disheveled
hair, their flashing eyes and their wolfish teeth, who, in the solitude
and silence of the studio, actually terrified her. Renovales laughed.
What nonsense! Jealous little girl! As if he were capable of thinking of
anything but art with a palette in his hand!
One afternoon, when Josephina suddenly came into the studio she saw on
the model's platform a naked woman, lying in some furs, showing the
curves of her yellow back. The wife compressed her lips and pretended
not to see her, listened to Renovales with a distracted air, as he
explained this innovation. He was painting a bacchanal and it was
impossible for him to proceed without a model. It was a case of
necessity, flesh could not be done from memory. The model, at ease
before the painter, felt ashamed of her nakedness in the presence of
that fashionable lady, and after wrapping herself up in the furs, hid
behind a screen and hastily dressed herself.
Renovales recovered his serenity when he reached home, seeing that his
wife received him with her customary eagerness, as if she had forgotten
her displeasure of the afternoon.
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