'Not now,' he replied. 'I have done all sorts--except portraits--I
never did portraits. But other things--'
'What kind of things?' asked Gudrun.
He paused a moment, then rose, and went out of the room. He returned
almost immediately with a little roll of paper, which he handed to her.
She unrolled it. It was a photogravure reproduction of a statuette,
signed F. Loerke.
'That is quite an early thing--NOT mechanical,' he said, 'more
popular.'
The statuette was of a naked girl, small, finely made, sitting on a
great naked horse. The girl was young and tender, a mere bud. She was
sitting sideways on the horse, her face in her hands, as if in shame
and grief, in a little abandon. Her hair, which was short and must be
flaxen, fell forward, divided, half covering her hands.
Her limbs were young and tender. Her legs, scarcely formed yet, the
legs of a maiden just passing towards cruel womanhood, dangled
childishly over the side of the powerful horse, pathetically, the small
feet folded one over the other, as if to hide.
Pages:
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888