VI.

She had had a rough passage: sea sickness still haunted in her, she

was pale with fatigue, and her eyes longed for sleep. But Elsie and

Cissy were coming to take her to the studio at ten o'clock. So she

asked to be called at nine, and she got up when she was called.

The gilt clock was striking ten in the empty drawing-room when she

entered. 'I didn't expect her to get up at six to receive me, but she

might be up at ten, I think. However, it doesn't much matter. I

suppose she's looking after her sick husband. ... Well, I don't think

much of her drawing-room. Red plush sofas and chairs. It is just like

an hotel, and the street is dingy enough,' thought Mildred, as she

pulled one of the narrow lace curtains aside: I don't think much of

Paris. But it doesn't matter, I shall be at the studio nearly all

day.'

A moment after Mrs. Fargus entered. 'I'm so sorry,' she said, 'I

wasn't up to receive you, but---'

'I didn't expect you to get up at five, which you would have had to

do. I was here soon after six.'

Mrs. Fargus asked her if she had had a good passage, if she felt

fatigued, and what she thought of Paris. And then the conversation

dropped.

'She's a good little soul,' thought Mildred, 'even though she does

dress shabbily. It is pure kindness of her to have me here; she

doesn't want the three pounds a week I pay her. But I had to pay

something. I couldn't sponge on her hospitality for six months... I

wonder she doesn't say something. I suppose I must.'

'You know it is very kind of you to have me here. I don't know how to

thank you.'

Mrs. Fargus' thoughts seemed on their way back from a thousand miles.

'From the depths of Comte,' thought Mildred.

'My dear, you wanted to study.'

'Yes, but if it hadn't been for you I should never have got the

chance. As it was Harold did his best to keep me. He said he'd have to

get a housekeeper, and it would put him to a great deal of

inconvenience: men are so selfish. He'd like me to keep house for him

always.'

'We're all selfish, Mildred. Men aren't worse than women, only it

takes another form. We only recognise selfishness when it takes a form

different from our practice.'

Mildred listened intently, but Mrs. Fargus said no more, and the

conversation seemed as if it were going to drop. Suddenly, to

Mildred's surprise, Mrs. Fargus said:

'When do you propose to begin work?'

'This morning. Elsie Laurence and Cissy Clive are coming to take me to

the studio. I'm expecting them every moment. They're late.'

'They know the studio they're taking you to, I suppose?'

'Oh yes, they've worked there before... The question is whether I

ought to work in the men's studio, or if it would be better, safer, to

join the ladies' class.'

'What does Miss Laurence say?'

'Oh, Elsie and Cissy are going to work with the men. They wouldn't

work with a lot of women.'

'Why?'

'Because they like being with men in the first place.'

'Oh! But you?'

'No, I don't mind, and yet I don't think I should care to be cooped up

all day with a lot of women.'

'You mean that there would be more emulation in a mixed class?'

'Yes; and Elsie says it is better to work in the men's studio. There

are cleverer pupils there than in the ladies' studio, and one learns

as much from one's neighbours as from the professor; more.'

'Are you sure of that? Do you not think that we are all far too ready

to assume that whatever men do is the best?'

'I suppose we are.'

'Men kept us uneducated till a hundred years ago; we are only gaining

our rights inch by inch, prejudice is only being overcome very slowly,

and whenever women have had equal, or nearly equal, advantages they

have proved themselves equal or superior to men. Women's inferiority

in physical strength is immaterial, for, as mankind grows more

civilised, force will be found in the brain and not in the muscles.'

Mrs. Fargus was now fairly afloat on her favourite theme, viz., if men

were kind to women, their kindness was worse than their cruelty--it

was demoralising.

Eventually the conversation returned whence it had started, and Mrs.

Fargus said:

'Then why do you hesitate? What is the objection to the men's studio?'

'I do not know that there is any particular objection, nothing that I

ought to let stand in the way of my studies. It was only something

that Elsie and Cissy said. They said the men's conversation wasn't

always very nice. But they weren't sure, for they understand French

hardly at all--they may have been mistaken. But if the conversation

were coarse it would be very unpleasant for me; the students would

know that I understood... Then there's the model, there's that to be

got over. But Elsie and Cissy say that the model's nothing; no more

than a statue.'

'The model is undraped?'

'Oh, yes.'

'Really Mildred---'

'That's the disadvantage of being a girl. Prejudice closes the

opportunity of study to one.'

Mrs. Fargus did not speak for a long time. At last she said:

'Of course, Mildred, you must consult your own feeling; if it's the

custom, if it's necessary--Your vocation is of course everything.'

Then it was Mildred's turn to pause before answering. At last she

said:

'It does seem rather--well, disgusting, but if it is necessary for

one's art. In a way I'd as soon work in the ladies' studio.'

'I daresay you derive just as much advantage.'

'Do you think so? It's from the students round one that one learns,

and there's no use coming to Paris if one doesn't make the most of

one's opportunities.'

'You might give the ladies' studio a trial, and if you didn't find you

were getting on you could join the men's.'

'After having wasted three months! As you say my vocation is

everything. It would be useless for me to think of taking up painting

as a profession, if I did not work in the men's studio.'

'But are you going there?'

'I can't make up my mind. You have frightened me, you've put me off

it.'

'I think I hardly offered an opinion.'

'Perhaps Harold would not like me to go there.'

'You might write to him. Yes, write to him.'

'Write to Harold about such a thing--the most conventional man in the

world!'

At that moment the servant announced Elsie and Cissy. They wore their

best dresses and were clearly atingle with desire of conversation and

Paris.

'We're a little late, aren't we, dear. We're so sorry,' said Elsie.

'How do you do, dear,' said Cissy.

Mildred introduced her friends. They bowed, and shook hands with Mrs.

Fargus, but were at no pains to conceal their indifference to the drab

and dowdy little woman in the soiled sage green, and the glimmering

spectacles. 'What a complexion,' whispered Elsie the moment they were

outside the door. 'What's her husband like?' asked Cissy as they

descended the first flight. Mildred answered that Mr. Fargus suffered

from asthma, and hoped no further questions would be asked, so happy

was she in the sense of real emancipation from the bondage of home--so

delighted was she in the spectacle of the great boulevard, now radiant

with spring sunlight.

She wondered at the large blue cravats of idlers, sitting in cafes

freshly strewn with bright clean sand, at the aprons of the waiters,--

the waiters were now pouring out green absinthe,--at the little shop

girls in tight black dresses and frizzled hair, passing three together

arm in arm; all the boulevard amused and interested Mildred. It looked

so different, she said, from what it had done four hours before. 'But

none of us look our best at six in the morning,' she added laughing,

and her friends laughed too. Elsie and Cissy chattered of some project

to dine with Walter, and go to the theatre afterwards, and

incidentally Mildred learnt that Hopwood Blunt would not be in Paris

before the end of the week. But where was the studio? The _kiosques_

were now open, the morning papers were selling briskly, the roadway

was full of _fiacres_ plying for hire, or were drawn up in lines three

deep, the red waistcoated coachmen slept on their box-seats. But where

was the studio?

Suddenly they turned into an Arcade. The shops on either side were

filled with jet ornaments, fancy glass, bon-bons, boxes, and fans.

Cissy thought of a present for Hopwood--that case of liqueur glasses.

Mildred examined a jet brooch which she thought would suit Mrs.

Fargus. Elsie wished that Walter would present her with a fan; and

then they went up a flight of wooden stairs and pushed open a swing

door. In a small room furnished with a divan, a desk, and a couple of

cane chairs, they met M. Daveau. He wore a short jacket and a brown-

black beard. He shook hands with Elsie and Cissy, and was introduced

to Mildred. Elsie said:

'You speak better than we do. Tell him you've come here to study.'

'I've come to Paris to study painting,' said Mildred. 'But I don't

know which I shall join, the ladies' studio or the men's studio. Miss

Laurence and Miss Clive advised me to work here, in the men's studio.'

'I know Miss Laurence and Miss Clive very well.' There was charm in

his voice, and Mildred was already interested in him. Cissy and Elsie

had drawn a curtain at the end of the room and were peeping into the

studio. 'Miss Laurence and Miss Clive,' he said, 'worked here for more

than a year. They made a great deal of progress--a great deal. They

worked also in the ladies' studio, opposite.'

'Ah, that is what I wanted to speak to you about. Would you advise me

to work in the men's studio? Do you think it would be advisable? Do

you think there would be any advantages?'

'We have some very clever pupils here--very clever; of course it is of

great advantage to work with clever pupils.'

'That is what I think, but I am not certain.'

'If Mademoiselle intends to study painting seriously.'

'Oh, but I do; I am very serious.'

'Then I do not think there can be any doubt which studio she should

choose.'

'Very well.'

'This studio is a hundred francs a month--for a lady; the ladies'

studio is sixty francs a month.'

'Why is that?'

'Because, if it were not so, we should be overcrowded. Ladies prefer

to work in this studio, it is much more advantageous. If you would

like to see the studio first?'

There were more than thirty in the studio; about twenty men and

fifteen women. Some sat on low stools close under the platform whereon

the model stood, some worked at easels drawn close together in a

semicircle round the room. The model was less shocking than Mildred

had imagined; he stood with his hands on his hip, a staff in his hand;

and, had it not been for a slight swaying motion, she would hardly

have known he was alive. She had never drawn before from the living

model, and was puzzled to know how to begin. She was going to ask

Elsie to tell her, when M. Daveau drew the curtain aside, and picking

his way through the pupils, came straight to her. He took the stool

next her, and with a pleasant smile asked if she had ever drawn from

the life.

'No,' she said, 'I have only copied a few pictures, you learn nothing

from copying.'

He told her how she must count the number of heads, and explained to

her the advantage of the plumb-line in determining the action of the

figure. Mildred was much interested; she wondered if she would be able

to put the instruction she was receiving into practice, and was

disappointed when the model got down from the table and put on his

trousers.

'The model rests for ten minutes every three quarters of an hour.

He'll take the pose again presently. It is now eleven o'clock.'

M. Daveau laid the charcoal upon her easel, and promised to come and

see how she was getting on later in the afternoon. But, just as the

model was about to take the pose again, a young girl entered the

studio.

'Do you want a model?'

'Yes, if she has a good figure,' said a student. 'Have you a good

figure?' he added with a smile.

'Some people think so. You must judge for yourselves,' she answered,

taking off her hat.

'Surely she is not going to undress in public!' said Mildred to Elsie,

who had come to her easel.