In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the
business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as
well without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to
his wife; they were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each
other.
It was decided they should travel; there was no reason whatever why
they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their
furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so
they could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves.
Kate would paint landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he
could easily find compensation in writing, should he miss his usual
work.
They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and Greece.
They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful
places.
Kate pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible mind
waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means
insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to
be able to paint, to keep hold of all that glow of colour, that
wonderful effect of tone that revealed itself to her delighted eyes on
her canvas.
She was so eager that she went out with her painting materials in
the morning, whether it was at Capri, on the shores of the blue
Bosphorus, in the yellow sand of the desert, facing the precipitous
pinnacles in the Fjords, or in the rose gardens of the Riviera. Her
delicate face got sunburnt; she no longer even paid any attention to
her hands, which she used to take such care of. The ardent longing to
manifest herself had seized hold of her. Thank God, she could
create something now. The miserable feeling of a useless life did not
exist any longer, nor the torturing knowledge: your life ceases the
moment your eyes close, there is nothing of you that will survive you.
Now she would at least leave something behind that she had produced,
even if it were only a picture. Her paintings increased in number;
quite a quantity of rolls of canvas were dragged about now wherever
they went.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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