But, stranger yet to tell, there was no picture, whatever its subject,
into which he did not introduce one form of placid and harmonious
loveliness. In this, however, his fierceness was only more fully
displayed. For in no case did this form manifest any relation either to
the actors or the endurers in the picture. Hence its very loveliness
became almost hateful to those who beheld it. Not a shade crossed the
still sky of that brow, not a ripple disturbed the still sea of that
cheek. She did not hate, she did not love the sufferers: the painter
would not have her hate, for that would be to the injury of her
loveliness: would not have her love, for he hated. Sometimes she floated
above, as a still, unobservant angel, her gaze turned upward, dreaming
along, careless as a white summer cloud, across the blue. If she looked
down on the scene below, it was only that the beholder might see that
she saw and did not care--that not a feather of her outspread pinions
would quiver at the sight. Sometimes she would stand in the crowd, as if
she had been copied there from another picture, and had nothing to do
with this one, nor any right to be in it at all. Or when the red blood
was trickling drop by drop from the crushed limb, she might be seen
standing nearest, smiling over a primrose or the bloom on a peach. Some
had said that she was the painter’s wife; that she had been false to
him; that he had killed her; and, finding that that was no sufficing
revenge, thus half in love, and half in deepest hate, immortalised his
vengeance. But it was now universally understood that it was his
daughter, of whose loveliness extravagant reports went abroad; though
all said, doubtless reading this from her father’s pictures, that she
was a beauty without a heart. Strange theories of something else
supplying its place were rife among the anatomical students. With the
girl in the pictures, the wild imagination of Lottchen, probably in part
from her apparently absolute unattainableness and her undisputed
heartlessness, had fallen in love, as far as the mere imagination can
fall in love.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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