ices.

"Don't be foolish, Mariano, dear. Come to bed; don't talk nonsense."

But he persisted obstinately in his desire. She must overcome her
bourgeois scruples, art scoffed at such modesty, human beauty was meant
to be shown in all its radiant majesty and not to be kept hidden,
despised and cursed.

He did not want to paint her; he did not dare to ask for that; but he
did want to see her, to see her and admire her, not with a coarse
desire, but with religious adoration.

And his hands, restrained by the fears of hurting her, gently pulled her
weak arms that were crossed on her breast in the endeavor to resist his
advances. She laughed: "You silly thing. You're tickling me--you're
hurting me." But little by little, conquered by his persistency, her
feminine pride flattered by this worship of her body, she gave in to
him, allowed herself to be treated like a child, with soft remonstrances
as if she were undergoing torture, but without resisting any longer.

Her body, free from veils, shone with the whiteness of pearl. Josephina
closed her eyes as if she wanted to flee from the shame of her
nakedness. On the smooth sheet, her graceful form was outlined in a
slightly rosy tone, intoxicating the eyes of the artist.

Josephina's face was not much to look at, but her body! If he could only
overcome her scruples some time and paint her!

Renovales kneeled down beside the bed in a transport of admiration.

"I worship you, Josephina. You are as fair as Venus. No, not Venus. She
is cold and calm, like a goddess, and you are a woman. You are
like--what are you like? Yes, now I see the likeness. You are Goya's
little _Maja_, with her delicate grace, her fascinating daintiness. You
are the _Maja Desnuda!_"

III

Renovales' life was changed. In love with his wife, fearing that she
might lack some comfort, and thinking with anxiety of the Torrealta
widow, who might complain that the daughter of the "illustrious diplomat
of imperishable memory" was not happy because she had lowered herself to
the extent of marrying a painter, he worked incessantly to maintain with
his brush the comforts with which he had surrounded Josephina.

He, who had had so much scorn for industrial art, painting for money, as
did his comrades, followed their example, but with the energy that he
showed in all his undertakings. In some of the studios there were cries
of protest against this tireless competitor who lowered prices
scandalously.