Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/302

Jacques, who after filling a wooden bowl with water was sprinkling powdered plaster of Paris into it.

“What do I mean to do?” said the artist, “cannot you guess? I am going to model Francine’s head, and as my courage would fail me if I were left alone, you must stay with me.”

Jacques then went and drew the curtains of the bed and turned down the sheet that had been pulled up over the dead girl’s face. His hand began to tremble and a stifled sob broke from his lips.

“Bring the candles,” he cried to his friend, “and come and hold the bowl for me.”

One of the candles was placed at the head of the bed so as to shed its light on Francine’s face, the other candle was placed at the foot. With a brush dipped in olive oil the artist coated the eye-brows, the eye-lashes and the hair, which he arranged as Francine usually wore it.

“By doing this she will not suffer when we remove the mould,” murmured Jacques to himself.

These precautions taken and after arranging the dead girl’s head in a favorable position, Jacques began to lay on the plaster in successive coats till the mould had attained the necessary thickness. In a quarter of an hour the operation was over and had been thoroughly successful.

By some strange peculiarity a change had taken place in Francine’s face. The blood, which had not had time to become wholly congealed, warmed no doubt by the warmth of the plaster, had flowed to the upper part of the corpse and a rosy tinge gradually showed itself on the dead whiteness of the checks and forehead. The eyelids, which had lifted when the mould was removed, revealed the tranquil blue eyes in which a vague intelligence still seemed to lurk; from out the lips, parted by the beginning of a smile,