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Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham [132]

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thrown forward; the attitude emphasized his fine figure; there was no fat on him, and his muscles stood out as though they were ot iron. His head, close-cropped, was well-shaped, and he wore a short beard; he had large, dark eyes and heavy eyebrows. He held the pose hour after hour without appearance of fatigue. There was in his mien a mixture of shame and of determination. His air of passionate energy excited Philip’s romantic imagination, and when, the sitting ended, he saw him in his clothes, it seemed to him that he wore them as though he were a king in rags. He was uncommunicative, but in a day or two Mrs. Otter told Philip that the model was a Spaniard and that he had never sat before.

“I suppose he was starving,” said Philip.

“Have you noticed his clothes? They’re quite neat and decent, aren’t they?”

It chanced that Potter, one of the Americans who worked at Amitrano’s, was going to Italy for a couple of months, and offered his studio to Philip. Philip was pleased. He was growing a little impatient of Lawson’s peremptory advice and wanted to be by himself. At the end of the week he went up to the model and on the pretense that his drawing was not finished asked whether he would come and sit to him one day.

“I’m not a model,” the Spaniard answered. “I have other things to do next week.”

“Come and have luncheon with me now, and we’ll talk about it,” said Philip, and as the other hesitated, he added with a smile: “It won’t hurt you to lunch with me.”

With a shrug of the shoulders the model consented, and they went off to a crémerie. The Spaniard spoke broken French, fluent but difficult to follow, and Philip managed to get on well enough with him. He found out that he was a writer. He had come to Paris to write novels and kept himself meanwhile by all the expedients possible to a penniless man: he gave lessons, he did any translations he could get hold of, chiefly business documents, and at last had been driven to make money by his fine figure. Sitting was well paid, and what he had earned during the last week was enough to keep him for two more; he told Philip, amazed, that he could live easily on two francs a day; but it filled him with shame that he was obliged to show his body for money, and he looked upon sitting as a degradation which only hunger could excuse. Philip explained that he did not want him to sit for the figure, but only for the head; he wished to do a portrait of him which he might send to the next Salon.

“But why should you want to paint me?” asked the Spaniard.

Philip answered that the head interested him, he thought he could do a good portrait.

“I can’t afford the time. I grudge every minute that I have to rob from my writing.”

“But it would only be in the afternoon. I work at the school in the morning. After all, it’s better to sit to me than to do translations of legal documents.”

There were legends in the Latin Quarter of a time when students of different countries lived together intimately, but this was long since passed, and now the various nations were almost as much separated as in an Oriental city. At Julian’s and at the Beaux-Arts a French student was looked upon with disfavor by his fellow countrymen when he consorted with foreigners, and it was difficult for an Englishman to know more than quite superficially any native inhabitants of the city in which he dwelt. Indeed, many of the students after living in Paris for five years knew no more French than served them in shops and lived as English a life as though they were working in South Kensington.

Philip, with his passion for the romantic, welcomed the opportunity to get in touch with a Spaniard; he used all his persuasiveness to overcome the man’s reluctance.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the Spaniard at last. “I’ll sit to you, but not for money, for my own pleasure.”

Philip expostulated, but the other was firm, and at length they arranged that he should come on the following Monday at one o’clock. He gave Philip a card on which was printed his name: Miguel Ajuria.

Miguel sat regularly, and though he refused to accept

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