Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part two - II
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Gram hung beside it — very good indeed — better than any of
the other things. The figure and the hands were perfectly
drawn, the bright red dress, draped at the sides, the openwork
black mittens, and the high black hat with a red wing were very
effective; the pale face with the dark eyes below the curls on
her forehead was good, but unfortunately she stood as glued on
to the grey-blue background. The portrait of a child drew her
attention — near the frame was written “Bamsey, four years
old.” Was that pretty little frowning child in a white shirt
Helge? How good he was!
Mrs. Gram returned with some cake and wine on a tray.
Jenny muttered something about giving trouble:
“I have been looking at your husband’s paintings.”
“I don’t understand much about it, but I think they are
beautiful. He says himself that they are no good, but it is
only a way of talking, I think,” she said, with a short, harsh
laugh. “My husband is pretty easy-going, you see, and
painting pictures could not pay our way when we had married and
had children, so he had to do something useful besides. But
he was too lazy to paint as well, and that is why he pretended
that he had no talent. To me his pictures are much prettier
than all the modern paintings, but I suppose you think
differently?”
“Your husband’s pictures are very pretty, especially your
portrait, which I think beautiful.”
“Do you? — but it is not very like me, and certainly not
flattering.” She laughed again, the same slightly bitter laugh.
“I think he painted much better before he began to imitate
those who were modern then — Thaulow and Krogh and
others.”
Jenny sipped her wine in silence while Mrs. Gram went on
talking.
“I should like to ask you to stay to lunch, Miss Winge,
but I have to do everything myself, you see, and we were not
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