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The Unbearable Bassington-Part13_H.H.Munro(Saki)(1870-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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in a travelling circus. However, you will always have relays of



people from the suburbs to listen to the Mocking Bird of yesterday,

and sincerely imagine it is the harbinger of something new and



revolutionising."

"WOULD you mind passing that plate of sandwiches," asked one of the



trio of young ladies, emboldened by famine.

"With pleasure," said Lady Caroline, deftly passing her a nearly



empty plate of bread-and-butter.

"I meant the place of caviare sandwiches. So sorry to trouble



you," persisted the young lady

Her sorrow was misapplied; Lady Caroline had turned her attention



to a newcomer.

"A very interesting exhibition," Ada Spelvexit was saying;



"faultless technique, as far as I am a judge of technique, and

quite a master-touch in the way of poses. But have you noticed how



very animal his art is? He seems to shut out the soul from his

portraits. I nearly cried when I saw dear Winifred depicted simply



as a good-lookinghealthy blonde."

"I wish you had," said Lady Caroline; "the spectacle of a strong,



brave woman weeping at a private view in the Rutland Galleries

would have been so sensational. It would certainly have been



reproduced in the next Drury Lane drama. And I'm so unlucky; I

never see these sensational events. I was ill with appendicitis,



you know, when Lulu Braminguard dramatically forgave her husband,

after seventeen years of estrangement, during a State luncheon



party at Windsor. The old queen was furious about it. She said it

was so disrespectful to the cook to be thinking of such a thing at



such a time."

Lady Caroline's recollections of things that hadn't happened at the



Court of Queen Victoria were notoriously vivid; it was the very

widespread fear that she might one day write a book of



reminiscences that made her so universally respected.

"As for his full-length picture of Lady Brickfield," continued Ada,



ignoring Lady Caroline's commentary as far as possible, "all the

expression seems to have been deliberately concentrated in the



feet; beautiful feet, no doubt, but still, hardly the most

distinctive part of a human being."



"To paint the right people at the wrong end may be an eccentricity,

but it is scarcely an indiscretion," pronounced Lady Caroline.



One of the portraits which attracted more than a passing flutter of

attention was a costume study of Francesca Bassington. Francesca



had secured some highly desirablepatronage for the young artist,

and in return he had enriched her pantheon of personal possessions



with a clever piece of work into which he had thrown an unusual

amount of imaginative detail. He had painted her in a costume of



the great Louis's brightest period, seated in front of a tapestry

that was so prominent in the composition that it could scarcely be



said to form part of the background. Flowers and fruit, in exotic

profusion, were its dominant note; quinces, pomegranates, passion-



flowers, giant convolvulus, great mauve-pink roses, and grapes that

were already being pressed by gleeful cupids in a riotous Arcadian



vintage, stood out on its woven texture. The same note was struck

in the beflowered satin of the lady's kirtle, and in the



pomegranate pattern of the brocade that draped the couch on which

she was seated. The artist had called his picture "Recolte." And



after one had taken in all the details of fruit and flower and

foliage that earned the composition its name, one noted the



landscape that showed through a broad casement in the left-hand

corner. It was a landscape clutched in the grip of winter, naked,



bleak, black-frozen; a winter in which things died and knew no

rewakening. If the picture typified harvest, it was a harvest of






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