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Updated: May 25, 2025
Never shall painter, brushes, colors, canvas, light, produce the rival of Catherine Lescaut, the Beautiful Nut-girl." Porbus and Poussin, seized with wild curiosity, rushed into the middle of a vast atelier filled with dust, where everything lay in disorder, and where they saw a few paintings hanging here and there upon the walls.
"Whoever sees it will find a woman lying on a velvet bed, beneath curtains; perfumes are exhaling from a golden tripod by her side: he will be tempted to take the tassels of the cord that holds back the curtain; he will think he sees the bosom of Catherine Lescaut, a model called the Beautiful Nut-girl; he will see it rise and fall with the movement of her breathing. Yet I wish I could be sure "
I shall have the strength to burn my Nut-girl ere I render my last sigh; but suffer her to endure the glance of a man, a young man, a painter? No, no! I would kill on the morrow the man who polluted her with a look! I would kill you, you, my friend, if you did not worship her on your knees; and think you I would submit my idol to the cold eyes and stupid criticisms of fools?
Nobody will thank us for what is underneath, remember that!" At last the demon paused; the old man turned to Porbus and Poussin, who stood mute with admiration, and said to them, "It is not yet equal to my Beautiful Nut-girl; still, one can put one's name to such a work. Yes, I will sign it," he added, rising to fetch a mirror in which to look at what he had done. "Now let us go and breakfast.
"Ah! if I were not so feeble," resumed Porbus, "and if you would consent to let me see your Beautiful Nut-girl, I too could paint some lofty picture, grand and yet profound, where the forms should have the living life." "Show my work!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion. "No, no! I have still to bring it to perfection. Yesterday, towards evening, I thought it was finished.
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