Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland

Author:Susan Vreeland [Vreeland, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9781101202289
Google: AAWIeObWFP8C
Amazon: 0143113526
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 2007-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

He had the rest of the meal to think of a different approach. Louise’s fried fish was a big success, but he hardly tasted it.

• 216 •

L u n c h e o n o f t h e B o a t i n g P a r t y

“Perfect for a boating party by the river,” Gustave told her.

“Why, thank you. Leave room for the dessert. Alphonsine made it.”

“And what might that be?” Gustave asked.

“They’re shaped like sails,” Alphonsine said. “They’re for boating champions, so you and the baron had better prove yourself worthy three weeks from today.”

Did she have to remind him of the passage of time?

When Anne brought up the apple pastries, Alphonsine served Gus-

tave a particularly large one. She went around the tables with a globe-shaped bottle banded in brass, drizzling the Chambord Royale on each person’s sail, starting and ending with Gustave’s, giving him a second pour while resting her hand on his shoulder. Gustave would be blind if he didn’t recognize that something was happening. Auguste was worried, for her sake.

He was itching to get started. It seemed forever before Anne came up to clear the plates. He and Paul rolled out the easel, Pierre rolled back the awning, people took their poses. Then he just sat.

“We’re breaking our bodies here. What are you waiting for?” Circe asked.

“The light, mademoiselle.”

After a cloud blew by, he mixed a burnt sienna and added a touch of rose madder for Raoul’s jacket, making it more ocher for some areas, and close to burnt umber for the shadows. He mixed in a touch of violet tint where the light landed on Raoul’s shoulders and the wooden rail. With other brushes, he touched all parts of the canvas, bringing everyone out a little more, except for the vague spot in the middle, Ellen and Émile.

He laid in more of the folds on Circe’s skirt and applied washes of pale pink and blue to the white stripes as he would do on the tablecloth, napkins, and Alphonse’s shirt. Circe shifted in her chair and the stripes changed. He set down his brush and bent down to try to get them back the way they were.

“Don’t touch my dress!” she cried. “Your hands have paint on them.”

He looked at his fingers. Not a bit of paint that he could see. Alphonsine circled around the table and adjusted the stripes according to his instructions.

• 217 •

S u s a n V r e e l a n d

Circe faced straight ahead. “Turn to Gustave, please,” he said. She moved her chin an inch to the left. “Ah, now your cheek is lit like a pear blossom at this angle.” It was a strategy, yes, but it was also true.

“As round and white as an angel’s arse is how he’s painting it,”

Angèle said, baiting her.

“Turn a little more.” Her frozen posture was a refusal. “As beautiful a profile as I’ve ever seen.”

“What about my eyes?”

“Like the midnight sky studded with a star.”

Alphonsine blew air out of her mouth.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.