Читать книгу Jewel sowers. A novel онлайн

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“I like it very little better. The man who painted it, judging from her face, understood human nature, and had very little mercy for it.”

“There you are mistaken. It is a caricature,” he answered softly, “painted one day by a man, and sent to his dearest friend—a woman.”

“But she is eating a tomato.”

“Of course! Let us continue.”

The next picture showed this same woman standing beside a man who sat upon a rock cracking nuts with his teeth. As Rosalie looked the scenes began to move and become lifelike, pretty much in the same way as a cinematograph. At first the man did not perceive his companion, but turning suddenly, in the act of taking a broken shell from his mouth, he saw her holding the scarlet fruit, from which she had taken no more than two fair mouthfuls. On seeing this his jaw dropped, his eyes expanded.

Thin, far-away voices came from the picture, aiding the illusion.

“What for did you that?” said he, in a voice devoid of beauty and expression.

“To find out,” she replied, in the same manner.