cia yielded
more readily; but concerning her own work she was intractable. For
instance, the _Joueur de Boules_, her first exhibited work, which
made such a tremendous hit at the Salon of 1862, was the occasion of
violent disputes between the two artists, of such fierce controversy
that Jenkins had to intervene and to superintend the removal of the
figure, which Ruys had threatened to break.

Aside from these little dramas, which had no effect upon the love of
their hearts, those two worshipped each other, with the presentiment
and, as the days passed, the cruel certainty of an impending
separation; when suddenly there came a horrible episode in Felicia's
life. One day Jenkins took her home to dinner with him, as he often
did. Madame Jenkins and her son were away for two days; but the
doctor's years, his semi-paternal intimacy, justified him in inviting
to his house, even in his wife's absence, a girl whose fifteen years,
the fifteen years of an Eastern Jewess resplendent with premature
beauty, left her still almost a child.

The dinner was very lively, Jenkins cordial and agreeable as always.
Then they went into the doctor's office; and suddenly, as they sat on
the divan, talking in the most intimate and friendly way concerning her
father, his health and their joint work, Felicia had a feeling as of
the cold blast from an abyss between herself and that man, followed by
the brutal embrace of a satyr's claw. She saw a Jenkins totally unknown
to her, wild-eyed, stammering, with brutish laugh and insulting hands.
In the surprise, the unexpectedness of that outbreak of the animal
instinct, any other than Felicia, any child of her years, but genuinely
innocent, would have been lost. The thing that saved her, poor child,
was her knowledge. She had heard so many stories at her father's table!
And then her art, her life at the studio. She was no _ingenue_. She at
once understood what that embrace meant, she squirmed and struggled,
then, finding that she was not strong enough, screamed. He was
frightened, released her, and suddenly she found herself on her feet,
free, with the man at her knees, weeping and imploring forgiveness. He
had yielded to an attack of frenzy. She was so lovely, he loved her so
dearly. He had struggled for months. But now it was all over--never
again, oh! never again. He would not even touch the hem of her dress.
She did not reply, but tremblingly rearranged her hair and her clothes
with frenzied finger