Of course, she was gone in the morning, leaving still more telltale signs of the restless night: loose strands of hair, a broken cup, an empty bottle of gin. He wasted at least three or four hours brooding on the balcony, smoking. Then moving down to the streets again, he spent what was left of that burnt-out day staring at the works of all those artists who had managed to stay away from their models.

She became a rumor in this city after that, the sort of woman one saw only from a distance, extending her hand to a waiting footman, stepping from a carriage in the evening. Naturally passing gentlemen always paused to watch; just as naturally she pretended not to notice.

He only saw her once through those first dead weeks of summer: a fleeting glimpse in a crowd, still exceptionally beautiful in black organdy and a trailing cape. He followed until she met a servant in a doorway, a stiff figure undoubtedly employed by that colonel.

His routine during these days was to give up trying to paint by eleven o'clock in the morning, then successfully drink through the afternoon. In July he spent nine days in the south with de Massloff, then returned to his room to begin, gradually, to paint again.

By August he must have started half a dozen portraits of her, although none seemed particularly inspired. The eyes still remained impossible, the face still slightly out of focus. Occasionally she would appear for a moment in a waking dream, but he could not seem to retain the image. And then she was back . . .

It was a Tuesday, a blue September evening. She knocked softly, as though frightened of what she would find. Then hesitating in the door: "Hello, Nicky. How are you?"

As if it wasn't obvious from the shambles of his room.

"What do you want, Margaretha?"

She ignored him, moving to the easel and another unfinished portrait. "Is that supposed to be me?"

"It's an experiment."

She frowned, toying with a bracelet that her colonel must have bought her, "Well, don't experiment with me."

He kicked away a heap of dirty clothing, found the previous night's bottle, and started to pour her a drink,

"No, Nicky, I can only stay a moment. In fact I merely came to give you this." She dropped a white card on the table.

He looked at it. "An invitation?"

"To dine with the colonel and me."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Oh, darling, don't be so primitive. I'm doing you a favor. The colonel is a very influential man, he can do marvelous things for your career. Besides, there's no reason in the world why the two of you shouldn't be friends."