“Not too far,” I said. “Within walking distance.” He wanted my address, I could tell. But I wasn’t going to give it to him. “Thank you again. I’ll see everyone in the morning.”

I started to walk away, but I delayed in crossing the Accademia Bridge until the motorboat had gone past. Then I walked home very fast, my footsteps echoing from the deserted cobblestones.

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 19

Juliet, Venice, Monday, July 10, 1939

I tried not to think about him, but I lay awake for hours, listening to the distant noises of the city, and only fell asleep in the early morning. Thus I awoke groggy and grumpy, and had to rush to bathe and prepare for class. This morning it was Drawing and Painting the Nude, and amongst the foreign students, only Gaston and I had selected the class. It must have been an entry-level class for the Italian students, as most of them looked horribly young, and I sensed glances coming in my direction. One of them actually asked me if I was the teacher. When I introduced myself as a visiting student from England, he looked embarrassed and hurried off to his own seat.

The professor was a buxom woman with long dyed red hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She was dressed in a flowing garment that revealed cleavage. When she talked, she waved her hands around a lot, and I couldn’t help feeling she should have been an actress, not an artist. She talked about the beauty of the human figure, the importance of the line. Once we had the line right, the details would fall into place. Some of the youngest students seemed to find this funny. I suppose they were thinking about the details falling into place.

A dais had been placed in the middle of the room with a ladder-backed chair on it. The professoressa , having given her opening remarks about what we were to look for, called forward her model. It was a well-built man, which I found a little unnerving. He stepped on to the dais, dressed in a bathrobe. Then he calmly removed it, revealing himself to be stark naked. I heard small gasps and even titters from my fellow students. I have to admit to shock myself, realizing that this was the first naked man I had ever seen in my life. I had studied naked figures in my art books, but this was different. I tried not to stare.

Our first assignments were thirty-second sketches. Then one-minute sketches. Then five minutes.

“You are paying too much attention to detail,” the professoressa complained, as she walked around the class. “Half close your eyes. Draw what you see.” She paused behind me. “Not bad,” she said.