Her father instantly said, of course
she would.
This she did for many days, and sat with her hair down and bared neck, as
handsome and modest as a female martyr should. Carnac painted her with
skill. Sometimes he would walk with her to lunch and make her eat
something sustaining, and they talked freely then, though little was said
while he was painting her. At last one day the painting was finished,
and she looked up at him wistfully when he told her he would not need
another sitting. Carnac, overcome by her sadness, put his arms round her
and kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck ravenously. She made only a
slight show of resistance. When he stopped she said: "Is that the way
you keep your word to my father? I am here alone and you embrace me--
is that fair?"
"No, it isn't, and I promise I won't do it again, Luzanne. I am sorry.
I wanted our friendship to benefit us both, and now I've spoiled it all."
"No, you haven't spoiled it all," said Luzanne with a sigh, and she
buttoned up the neck of her blouse, flushing slightly as she did so.
Her breast heaved and suddenly she burst into tears. It was evident she
wanted Carnac to comfort her, perhaps to kiss her again, but he did not
do so. He only stood over her, murmuring penance and asking her to
forget it.
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