Unfinished Portraits Part 17

He hesitated a second. "It was a little rough," he confessed.

"Always!" The laugh rippled sweetly. "Like a log of wood--or a heap of stones--or a large loaf of bread."

He stirred uneasily. "Do you sit to him often?" he asked.

Her eyes dwelt for a moment on his face. "Not now," she replied.

He returned the look searchingly. "You are going to?"

"Yes," she a.s.sented.

He still held her eyes. "I don't like it," he said slowly.

The ghost of a smile came into her face. Her eyes danced in the shadow of it. "No?" she said quietly.

"No!"

She waited, looking down and plucking at the silken fringe of her bodice. "Why?" she asked after a time.

He made no reply.

She glanced up at him. He was looking away from her, across the gay ca.n.a.l. His face had a gentle, preoccupied look, and his lip trembled.

Her glance fell. "Why not?" she repeated softly.

He looked down at her and his face flushed. "I don't know," he said. He bent toward her and took the fan from her fingers.

She yielded it with half reluctance, her eyes mocking him and her lips alluring.

He smiled back at her, shaking his head slightly and unfurling the fan.

He had regained his self-possession. He moved the fan gently, stirring the red-gold hair and fluttering the silken fringe on her bodice. It rose and fell swiftly, moved in the soft current of air. His eyes studied her face. "Will you sit for me some day?" he said.

She nodded without speaking. The breath came swiftly between the red lips and the eyes were turned away. They rested on the facade of a tall building opposite, where a flock of doves, billing and cooing in the warm air, strutted and preened themselves. Their plump and iridescent b.r.e.a.s.t.s shone in the sun.

Her hand reached for the cithara at her side. "Shall I sing you their song?" she said, "The Birds of Venus."

He smiled indulgently. Her voice crooned the words.

"Sing!" she said imperiously. He joined in, following her mood with ready ease.

There was silence between them when the song was done. She sat with her eyes half closed, looking down at the white hands in her lap.

He lifted one of them gently, his eyes on her face. She did not stir or look up. He raised it slowly to his lips.

The warm breath stirred a smile on her face. She glanced at him from under falling lids.

He dropped the hand and stood up with a half cry.

"I must go--Violante--I must--go!" He groped to where the doorway opened, cool and dark, behind them, "I must go," he repeated vaguely.

She rose and came to him slowly. "You must go," she said softly.

They pa.s.sed into the dark, open doorway.

Below, in the hot sun, the gondola rocked at the foot of the stairs.

IV

The noon-bell in the southern turret of the Fondaco chimed softly. A painter at work on the facade near by looked up inquiringly at the sun.

He smiled absently to himself and, dropping his brushes, descended lightly from the scaffolding to the ground. He walked away a few steps--as far as the ground permitted--and turned to look at the work above.

"Not so bad," he murmured softly, "--not so bad ... and better from the water." He glanced at the ca.n.a.l below. A white hand from a pa.s.sing gondola waved to him and motioned approvingly toward the colors of the great wall.

"Bravo, Tiziano!" called some one from another craft. The ca.n.a.l took up the cry. "Bravo, bravo! Bravo,--Tiziano!"

t.i.tian raised his painter's cap and returned the salute. He stood with one foot on the parapet, looking down and smiling with easy grace, at the pleasure-loving crowd below. A man came in sight around the corner of the Fondaco, walking slowly and looking up at the picture as he came.

"Well?" t.i.tian glanced at him keenly.

"Great!" responded Giorgione heartily. "The Judith bears the light well, and when the scaffolding is down it will be better yet.... Venice will be proud!" He laid his hand affectionately on the other's shoulder and motioned toward the throng of boats that had halted below, gazing at the glowing wall.

"To-day t.i.tian--to-morrow another!" said t.i.tian a little bitterly.

"Why care?" responded Giorgione. "Some one to-day told me that my Judith, on the south wall here, surpa.s.ses all my other work together."

He laughed cordially.

t.i.tian looked at him keenly. His face had flushed a little under the compliment. "It is like you not to care," he said affectionately.

"Care! Why should I care--so that the work is done?" His eyes rested lovingly on the facade. "It is marvellous--that trick of light," he said wonderingly.... "You must teach it to me."

t.i.tian laughed under his breath. "I learned it from you."

Giorgione shook his head. "Not from me...." he replied doubtingly. "If you learned it from me, others would learn from me." He stood, looking up, lost in thought.

"Where is Zarato?" asked t.i.tian abruptly.

Giorgione started vaguely. A flush came into his face. "He stopped work--an hour ago," he said.

t.i.tian's eyes were on his face.

The open friendliness had vanished. It was turned to him with a look of trouble. "Had you thought, Cevelli--" His speech hesitated and broke off. He was looking down at the dark water.

t.i.tian answered the unspoken question. "Yes, I had thought," he said.

His voice was very quiet.