Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 10, 2025
She was sitting still, leaning her head against the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance with a fixed and tragic absorption. When her face wore that expression, it had a look of Durer's "Melancolia." "Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp. "No; he was to have met me here the next morning." "Yes, I remember. Where is he?"
Maisie put her cheek forward, and Dick took his reward in the darkness. It was only one kiss, but, since there was no time-limit specified, it was a long one. Maisie wrenched herself free angrily, and Dick stood abashed and tingling from head to toe. 'Good-bye, darling. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry. Only keep well and do good work, specially the Melancolia. I'm going to do one, too.
When she found that she was merely expected to sit still, she grew calmer, and criticised the appointments of the studio with freedom and some point. She liked the warmth and the comfort and the release from fear of physical pain. Dick made two or three studies of her head in monochrome, but the actual notion of the Melancolia would not arrive.
It was true that the corners of the studio draped themselves in gray film and retired into the darkness, that the spots in his eyes and the pains across his head were very troublesome, and that Maisie's letters were hard to read and harder still to answer. He could not tell her of his trouble, and he could not laugh at her accounts of her own Melancolia which was always going to be finished.
All the same I lover her; and I must go on loving her; and if I can humble her inordinate vanity I will. I'll do a Melancolia that shall be something like a Melancolia "the Melancolia that transcends all wit." I'll do it at once, con bless her. He discovered that the notion would not come to order, and that he could not free his mind for an hour from the thought of Maisie's departure.
She was angry with the heat, with Kami, and with her work, but she was exceedingly angry with Dick. She had written to him three times, each time proposing a fresh treatment of her Melancolia. Dick had taken no notice of these communications. She had resolved to write no more. When she returned to England in the autumn for her pride's sake she could not return earlier she would speak to him.
There shall be Maisie in that head, because I shall never get Maisie; and Bess, of course, because she knows all about Melancolia, though she doesn't know she knows; and there shall be some drawing in it, and it shall all end up with a laugh. That's for myself. Shall she giggle or grin?
He had just discovered that he was painting the face of the Melancolia on a revolving dome ribbed with millions of lights, and that all his wondrous thoughts stood embodied hundreds of feet below his tiny swinging plank, shouting together in his honour, when something cracked inside his temples like an overstrained bowstring, the glittering dome broke inward, and he was alone in the thick night.
Of course you don't care for fancy heads, Dick. I don't think you could do them. You like blood and bones. 'That's a direct challenge. If you can do a Melancolia that isn't merely a sorrowful female head, I can do a better one; and I will, too. What d'you know about Melacolias? Dick firmly believed that he was even then tasting three-quarters of all the sorrow in the world.
'I? Oh, I shall stay here and finish your Melancolia, she said, smiling pitifully. 'Write to me afterwards.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking