The Painting, Jeffrey Allen White [best memoirs of all time TXT] 📗
- Author: Jeffrey Allen White
Book online «The Painting, Jeffrey Allen White [best memoirs of all time TXT] 📗». Author Jeffrey Allen White
be unfair to this young artist. She would have to tell him no.
“I spent all night thinking of you and Francine and was mesmerized by you both. Your striking beauty and simplicity of your manor caused me to want to know you better. My mind studied you while we chatted. I was able too imprint in my mind every nuance, every line, color and shape of you, your appearance of and Francine. Although the child would be running so much I could not do service to her face. But you were the main subject of my interest, I must say.
“What are you speaking of” Camille was confused. What did he mean by that? She had no idea but it was time to go as the bells chimed four o’clock and they had to dress for dinner. “I am very sorry, Monsieur Devereux, but I cannot take…”
Jean Luc interrupted her as he unwrapped the painting. To Camille’s surprise, her face lit up as well as Francine’s as Jean Luc produced a finished painting of both Camille and Francine as they were on the day before. Their likeness captured on canvas as if it were their reflections and not a painting. Camille examined the painting and reached for her face as she saw the same features as she had down to the little turn of her lip on one side. “But how could you do all of this and in one evening?” Camille was astonished at this enchanting and sudden surprise. She had not even sat for a moment and this man had captured her as she was with her expression and even the buttons on her frock and the configuration of her hat. The color of her hair, he had matched as if he had a taken a lock home to replicate its exact color. Knowing a little about panting she was amazed at how he captured her as she really looked and that of Francine and their surroundings. This was an impossible feat but yet was here before her. “How could this be?” Camille barely could get the words out. She was both touched and intrigued.
Francine jumped up and down, going on about the painting and how beautiful it was. It was a beautiful work of art, Camille knew that. Museum quality, the little she did know about paintings. Camille stood in silence as she stared at the panting as if were about to come alive. Passerby’s would stop and praise the artist and his work.
“When I had entered my home and studio, I could not get you out of my mind. I had to paint you whether in person or from memory. Anything as long as I could do it. The urge was so strong I started right away. The painting began quickly. I didn’t want to forget a single moment of the time we shared the day before. I had to know you on canvas. It was beyond my control. The paint brush worked as if by magic, with each stroke bringing you to life and within my reach. I could almost see you breathing on the canvas and the reflection in your far away look of the boats that paddled by. I worked through dawn and only finished just a few hours ago. I washed, shaved, ate and then rushed here to again meet you by chance to give this to you. You are beautiful and I will never forget you.” He handed her the painting as he covered it up again. “God has given me the chance that I needed.”
Camille took it and was unsure of what to say. “This is all so fast. I didn’t even say I would sit although I had intended to tell you I would today. How could you have completed this work in such a short time? Your work is clearly high quality and that of a master and yet you say you are but a student from Paris. She looked deep into his eyes. Her heart raced as their eyes met. He was young, but older than she and had such an excitement about him. The way he walked and spoke and the manner of which he looked at her.
“This is for you, to have, to share, to hang, to dispose of in any way you want. I will have you in my mind forever, Every detail will be with me till the day I die. Your beauty and charm has captured my heart. This was something I had to do. I had no other choice. Jean Luc reached for her hand. I know this sounds impertinent and I risk your reputation but I feel I know you from the way I painted you. You have not only captured my mind with your beauty but also you have won my heart and I can only hope that we can remain friends and even more. But that is up to you. I will not push or provoke you. I understand your position and you may not be accustomed to the ways of Paris and its artists but the fact is that I love you, Camille. More love than I have ever had for anyone or anything before. I loved you from the moment I walked over to you to ask you to pose for me. I have never have done that before in my entire life. I was always proper and would paint from afar but I had to paint you and in depth. I needed to satisfy my urge that compelled me to bring you to life on a canvas so that I may gaze at you. If only to have this embedded in my mind if I never saw you again or you refused me as someone in your life.” Jean Loc bent over and kissed her hand. His eyes never left hers and her heart began beating faster than the minutes that ticked away.
Realizing the time, “I have to go. Not because of you but because I must have Francine home and readied for dinner. I am not sure what to do about the painting. I think it is most beautiful and your words do touch me. I too, have thought of you since our meeting and only till now I realize that I have feelings for you also. Although I did not make a painting to show it, my mind and heart was already yours just twenty four hours ago.“ She reached up and touched his check with her ungloved hand. A most intimate display of affection out in public. What if someone saw and reported back to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Garielle? She could lose her job or worse, to not be allowed to ever come to this park again to see Jean Luc. And what would they think of the painting? They would surely think she spent weeks if not months on it giving her up for the time she would have needed to sit for it. She was very confused as her heart said one thing and her commitment to Francine and her work said another. “I have to leave now. I am so sorry. But I cannot take this painting with me, not yet at least. Will I see you again?” She longed to stay and to be held in his arms.
Jean Luc, although saddened by her refusal to take the painting rallied in the fact she returned his feelings. She wanted to see him again. “It is all right. I will keep it for another day. Our engagement perhaps.” He smiled with his chiseled jaw line and bright blue eyes under a shock of thick black hair.
Camille blushed from his comment but she did not run from it. She too wished to remain in contact with Jean Luc. But how and when? She did not know. She did know she was late now and had to rush even to be home before dinner. “I have to go, I am so sorry.”
Jean Luc took the painting under his arm. “Do not be sorry for it is a day of joy for you and I. Take your little friend home and feed her. I will think of you tonight and plan our next meeting. I will see you again in this park, I promise.
Camille didn’t want to leave but she must. “Good bye Jean Luc,” she said as Francine took her hand and pulled her to the gates. She watched him standing there with the painting realizing that this was the man she would one day marry. She so wanted to run off with him but she had a duty and she had to regain her composure.
Jean Luc stood with the painting under his arm and watched as she disappeared from sight. Her every step was memorized by him. His heart beat strong as he had met the woman he would marry one day.
Imprint
“I spent all night thinking of you and Francine and was mesmerized by you both. Your striking beauty and simplicity of your manor caused me to want to know you better. My mind studied you while we chatted. I was able too imprint in my mind every nuance, every line, color and shape of you, your appearance of and Francine. Although the child would be running so much I could not do service to her face. But you were the main subject of my interest, I must say.
“What are you speaking of” Camille was confused. What did he mean by that? She had no idea but it was time to go as the bells chimed four o’clock and they had to dress for dinner. “I am very sorry, Monsieur Devereux, but I cannot take…”
Jean Luc interrupted her as he unwrapped the painting. To Camille’s surprise, her face lit up as well as Francine’s as Jean Luc produced a finished painting of both Camille and Francine as they were on the day before. Their likeness captured on canvas as if it were their reflections and not a painting. Camille examined the painting and reached for her face as she saw the same features as she had down to the little turn of her lip on one side. “But how could you do all of this and in one evening?” Camille was astonished at this enchanting and sudden surprise. She had not even sat for a moment and this man had captured her as she was with her expression and even the buttons on her frock and the configuration of her hat. The color of her hair, he had matched as if he had a taken a lock home to replicate its exact color. Knowing a little about panting she was amazed at how he captured her as she really looked and that of Francine and their surroundings. This was an impossible feat but yet was here before her. “How could this be?” Camille barely could get the words out. She was both touched and intrigued.
Francine jumped up and down, going on about the painting and how beautiful it was. It was a beautiful work of art, Camille knew that. Museum quality, the little she did know about paintings. Camille stood in silence as she stared at the panting as if were about to come alive. Passerby’s would stop and praise the artist and his work.
“When I had entered my home and studio, I could not get you out of my mind. I had to paint you whether in person or from memory. Anything as long as I could do it. The urge was so strong I started right away. The painting began quickly. I didn’t want to forget a single moment of the time we shared the day before. I had to know you on canvas. It was beyond my control. The paint brush worked as if by magic, with each stroke bringing you to life and within my reach. I could almost see you breathing on the canvas and the reflection in your far away look of the boats that paddled by. I worked through dawn and only finished just a few hours ago. I washed, shaved, ate and then rushed here to again meet you by chance to give this to you. You are beautiful and I will never forget you.” He handed her the painting as he covered it up again. “God has given me the chance that I needed.”
Camille took it and was unsure of what to say. “This is all so fast. I didn’t even say I would sit although I had intended to tell you I would today. How could you have completed this work in such a short time? Your work is clearly high quality and that of a master and yet you say you are but a student from Paris. She looked deep into his eyes. Her heart raced as their eyes met. He was young, but older than she and had such an excitement about him. The way he walked and spoke and the manner of which he looked at her.
“This is for you, to have, to share, to hang, to dispose of in any way you want. I will have you in my mind forever, Every detail will be with me till the day I die. Your beauty and charm has captured my heart. This was something I had to do. I had no other choice. Jean Luc reached for her hand. I know this sounds impertinent and I risk your reputation but I feel I know you from the way I painted you. You have not only captured my mind with your beauty but also you have won my heart and I can only hope that we can remain friends and even more. But that is up to you. I will not push or provoke you. I understand your position and you may not be accustomed to the ways of Paris and its artists but the fact is that I love you, Camille. More love than I have ever had for anyone or anything before. I loved you from the moment I walked over to you to ask you to pose for me. I have never have done that before in my entire life. I was always proper and would paint from afar but I had to paint you and in depth. I needed to satisfy my urge that compelled me to bring you to life on a canvas so that I may gaze at you. If only to have this embedded in my mind if I never saw you again or you refused me as someone in your life.” Jean Loc bent over and kissed her hand. His eyes never left hers and her heart began beating faster than the minutes that ticked away.
Realizing the time, “I have to go. Not because of you but because I must have Francine home and readied for dinner. I am not sure what to do about the painting. I think it is most beautiful and your words do touch me. I too, have thought of you since our meeting and only till now I realize that I have feelings for you also. Although I did not make a painting to show it, my mind and heart was already yours just twenty four hours ago.“ She reached up and touched his check with her ungloved hand. A most intimate display of affection out in public. What if someone saw and reported back to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Garielle? She could lose her job or worse, to not be allowed to ever come to this park again to see Jean Luc. And what would they think of the painting? They would surely think she spent weeks if not months on it giving her up for the time she would have needed to sit for it. She was very confused as her heart said one thing and her commitment to Francine and her work said another. “I have to leave now. I am so sorry. But I cannot take this painting with me, not yet at least. Will I see you again?” She longed to stay and to be held in his arms.
Jean Luc, although saddened by her refusal to take the painting rallied in the fact she returned his feelings. She wanted to see him again. “It is all right. I will keep it for another day. Our engagement perhaps.” He smiled with his chiseled jaw line and bright blue eyes under a shock of thick black hair.
Camille blushed from his comment but she did not run from it. She too wished to remain in contact with Jean Luc. But how and when? She did not know. She did know she was late now and had to rush even to be home before dinner. “I have to go, I am so sorry.”
Jean Luc took the painting under his arm. “Do not be sorry for it is a day of joy for you and I. Take your little friend home and feed her. I will think of you tonight and plan our next meeting. I will see you again in this park, I promise.
Camille didn’t want to leave but she must. “Good bye Jean Luc,” she said as Francine took her hand and pulled her to the gates. She watched him standing there with the painting realizing that this was the man she would one day marry. She so wanted to run off with him but she had a duty and she had to regain her composure.
Jean Luc stood with the painting under his arm and watched as she disappeared from sight. Her every step was memorized by him. His heart beat strong as he had met the woman he would marry one day.
Imprint
Publication Date: 01-28-2011
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
deicated to my wife, Dianna White
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