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Greuze's picture was not there, still the vision was present. With eyes raised toward it Darvid smiled. "Yes, little one, quickly." He took a pen and began a telegram to Irene. He penned the address, and then wrote: "Come as quickly as possible for Puffie." He put the pen down, rang, and told the footman to send the telegram immediately.
I did not want to refuse, either. The piano was in the beautiful picture-gallery, all full of Greuze's pictures bought from the Vatican; it has the most wonderful acoustics, and the voice sounded splendidly in it. Lady Dudley is a celebrated beauty. Lord Dudley before he succeeded to the title was Lord Ward. The Duke and Duchess of Sutherland asked us to dine.
And she had in turning looked over her shoulder at the other lady with a faint accent of reproach in her face. Those who remember Greuze's 'Head of a Girl, have an idea of Cytherea's look askance at the turning.
An artless platitude is really more artificial than a clever paradox; it doesn't even cast a side-light on the natural material with which it deals. Greuze's genre is really a genre of his own his own and that of kindred spirits since. It is as systematic and detached as the art of Poussin. The forms it embodies merely have more natural, more familiar associations.
The first picture he presented to the jury of the Exhibition at the Louvre represented a village wedding rather laboriously copied from Greuze's picture. It was rejected.
Kitty Sherard was a decorative young woman, with a face like one of Greuze's pictures and a passion for wearing rose-colour. Her father was that rather famous personage, Lord Sherard, one of the last of the dandies, and probably one of the few men in England in the present day who had fought a duel.
Vera was like no other woman he had ever seen; she was as far removed above common young-ladyhood as Raphael's Madonnas are beyond and above Greuze's simpering maidens; there could be no other like her she was a queen, a goddess among women. From the very first moment that he had caught sight of her on the terrace outside his house her absolute mastery over him had begun.
Picture to yourself this delicious figure this face which had seemed lovely before, and now, with deft cosmetics, and a solitary tiny patch, and the glow of exquisite enjoyment in the sweet hazel eyes, was nothing less than a Greuze's dream picture our Daisy to yourself, I say, and you may guess in part how flattering was her reception, how high and fast rose the gallant congratulations that the Valley boasted such a beauteous daughter.
The first French painter of genre, in the full modern sense of the term, the first true interpreter of scenes from humble life of lowly incident and familiar situations, of broken jars and paternal curses, and buxom girls and precocious children he certainly is. There is certainly nothing régence about him. But the beginning and end of Greuze's art is convention.
The most recent were Greuze's Jeune Fille Effrayee, from the last King of Poland's Gallery; two Canalettis, once the property of Pope Clement XIII; James II of England's Wife, by Netscher; the same king's portrait, by Lely, in addition to a Van Dyck, two Van Huysums, and three canvases by Rotari, a Venetian painter of the eighteenth century. The winter was not propitious to Madame Hanska either.
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