DOI article:
Dowie, Ménie Muriel: Wladlislaw's Advent
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21805#0117
By Menie Muriel Dowie 113
figure of the Christ Standing in the chastened light at the far end
of the Studio. There had been a slight rattling sound—a curtain
had been drawn, and then the beautiful form had stepped out and
stood before them—the very type of manhood Christ had chosen,
if pictures may be trusted, when He came to this earth : the pure
forehead, the patient sorrowful eyes, reproach in the expression of
the eyebrows and the mouth, the young beard and brown soft
hair—in a word, the Nazarene.
When Dufour raised a wavering arm, and with a smile of
drunken intelligence exclaimed, cc Ah, c’est mon Jesus-Christ !
Bonsoir, monsieur ! ” a renewed shiver of apprehension went
round among the madly frightened people. Then he rose,
throwing off a cowering woman, staggering a little, holding to
his chair, and turned to address to his guests a mock speech
of introduction :
“ Mesdames et Messieurs, je vous presente mon modele, l’excel-
lent Ladislas ! ”
When he had declaimed thus, rising superior to a thickened
stammer, “ La Coquelicotte,” as the orange lady had at once been
named, bounded from her chair with a scream. It was the signal
for a lightning change of emotion : the hysterics rose to an aban-
doned shout of uneontrollable laughter; the moaning woman raised
her head ; the men banged the table and exclaimed according to
their mood. One caught a handful of green stuff from a vase
that had already been knocked over, and dashed them to the
ground in front of the rock-still white figure. The dark-haired
woman—Wladislaw had not recognised her, and she wore
shoes this time—laid her swollen hand upon Dufour’s shoulder
and cried harshly, u Va, Toni ! Monsieur a besoin d’un
a I 5?
ane !
More screams greeted this pleasantry, and “ La Coquelicotte ”
flew
figure of the Christ Standing in the chastened light at the far end
of the Studio. There had been a slight rattling sound—a curtain
had been drawn, and then the beautiful form had stepped out and
stood before them—the very type of manhood Christ had chosen,
if pictures may be trusted, when He came to this earth : the pure
forehead, the patient sorrowful eyes, reproach in the expression of
the eyebrows and the mouth, the young beard and brown soft
hair—in a word, the Nazarene.
When Dufour raised a wavering arm, and with a smile of
drunken intelligence exclaimed, cc Ah, c’est mon Jesus-Christ !
Bonsoir, monsieur ! ” a renewed shiver of apprehension went
round among the madly frightened people. Then he rose,
throwing off a cowering woman, staggering a little, holding to
his chair, and turned to address to his guests a mock speech
of introduction :
“ Mesdames et Messieurs, je vous presente mon modele, l’excel-
lent Ladislas ! ”
When he had declaimed thus, rising superior to a thickened
stammer, “ La Coquelicotte,” as the orange lady had at once been
named, bounded from her chair with a scream. It was the signal
for a lightning change of emotion : the hysterics rose to an aban-
doned shout of uneontrollable laughter; the moaning woman raised
her head ; the men banged the table and exclaimed according to
their mood. One caught a handful of green stuff from a vase
that had already been knocked over, and dashed them to the
ground in front of the rock-still white figure. The dark-haired
woman—Wladislaw had not recognised her, and she wore
shoes this time—laid her swollen hand upon Dufour’s shoulder
and cried harshly, u Va, Toni ! Monsieur a besoin d’un
a I 5?
ane !
More screams greeted this pleasantry, and “ La Coquelicotte ”
flew