Page 59 of The Seven Sisters
Finally, out of boredom, she agreed to play cards with Maria Elisa’s younger brothers, while the precious hours of her first day ticked by.
*
Due to the prolonged nature of Maria Georgiana’s and Maria Elisa’s illness, Bel’s impatience to be out and about grew apace. Towards the end of her first week, during which she had not once set foot on a Parisian boulevard, she plucked up her courage and asked Maria Georgiana whether she would permit her to take a walk in the street to breathe some fresh air. The answer, as expected, was no.
‘Certainly not unchaperoned, Izabela. And neither I nor Maria Elisa are currently well enough to accompany you. There’ll be plenty of time to see the sights of Paris when we return from Florence,’ Maria Georgiana said firmly.
Bel walked away from Maria Georgiana’s room wondering how she would manage to contain herself until they left for Florence. She felt like a starving prisoner, gazing through the iron bars of her cell at a box of chocolate delights, tantalisingly placed only a few millimetres from her reach.
It was Heitor who finally saved the day. For the past week they had met at breakfast, and although he was preoccupied, even he had noticed her forlorn solitariness.
‘Izabela, today I will visit Boulogne-Billancourt to meet the sculptor Professor Paul Landowski. We have already talked by letter and on the telephone, but I will go to hisatelierfor him to show me where and how he works. He is my current favourite for the commission, although I still have other sculptors to meet in Italy and Germany. Would you like to accompany me?’
‘I . . . I would be honoured, senhor. But I worry that I might get in the way.’
‘I am certain that you will not. I understand that you must be bored by your incarceration here, and while I speak to Professor Landowski, I’m sure we can find one of his assistants to show you round hisatelier.’
‘Senhor da Silva Costa, I can’t think of anything I’d like more,’ Bel said fervently.
‘Well, don’t think of it as too much of a favour,’ responded Heitor. ‘After all, your future father-in-law is a member of the Catholic Circle, instrumental in promoting the idea of a monument on the top of Corcovado and organising fundraising to build it. It would be a grave embarrassment to return you to Rio and tell him I have failed to introduce you to the cultural riches of the Old World. So,’ Heitor said, smiling at her, ‘we leave at eleven.’
*
As they drove over the Pont de l’Alma and onto the Left Bank, Bel peered eagerly out of the window, as though she expected Picasso himself to be sitting at a street café as they passed by.
‘Landowski’satelieris some distance from here,’ said Heitor. ‘I think he’s less interested in drinking with his cronies in the streets of Montparnasse and more inspired by his work. And, of course, he has a family, which is not something easily accommodated on the Left Bank.’
‘His surname doesn’t sound French,’ said Bel, a little disappointed that Landowski was not part of the circle she craved to discover.
‘No, he comes from Polish ancestors, although I believe his family has lived in France for seventy-five years. Perhaps his temperament doesn’t suit the more outlandish vagaries of some of his contemporaries. However, he does embrace the new Art Deco style, which is becoming prominent in Europe. I think this may well prove very suitable for my Christ.’
‘Art Deco?’ questioned Bel. ‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘Hmm . . . how can I explain the style?’ Heitor murmured to himself. ‘Well, it’s as if anything you might see in the everyday world, like a table, or a gown, or even a human being, gets stripped down to its basic lines. It isn’t fanciful or romantic in the classical style of many of the great artists and sculptors of the past. It is simple, raw . . . as I believe Christ Himself wished to be seen.’
As they drove on, the landscape became more rural, the built-up city giving way to occasional clusters of houses along the roadside. Bel couldn’t help thinking how ironic it was that the moment she’d actually managed to escape the apartment, she was being driven away from the pulsating heart of the city she so longed to explore.
Having taken a number of wrong turns, finally their driver turned left into the entrance of a large, rambling house.
‘This is it.’ Heitor climbed out of the car immediately, his eyes alight with expectation. As Bel followed him through the gardens, she saw a wiry figure sporting a head of unruly grey hair and a long beard emerge from the side of the house, clad in a clay-spattered smock. She watched as the two men shook hands and began to talk earnestly together. She hovered some distance away, not wishing to interrupt their conversation, and it was a few minutes before Heitor seemed to remember she was there.
‘Senhorita,’ he said, turning to her. ‘My apologies. It is always a great moment when you have the pleasure of meeting someone in person with whom you have only corresponded by letter previously. May I present Professor Paul Landowski. Professor, this is Senhorita Izabela Bonifacio.’
Landowski reached out his hand and raised her fingers to his lips. ‘Enchanté.’ Then he looked down at her hand, and to Bel’s surprise, began to gently trace its contours with his own fingertips. ‘Mademoiselle, why, you have the most beautiful fingers. Does she not, Monsieur da Silva Costa?’
‘I regret I’ve never noticed them before,’ answered Heitor. ‘But yes, senhor, you are right.’
‘Now, down to business, monsieur,’ said Landowski, letting go of Bel’s hand. ‘I will show you myatelier,and then we will discuss your vision of the Christ in more detail.’
Bel followed the two men through the garden, noting that the foliage seemed still asleep – green but with no flowers visible yet – whereas in her homeland, the vibrant colours of the native plants decorated the landscape all year round.
Landowski led them into a high, barn-like structure that sat at the end of the garden, the sides of it constructed from walls of glass to let in the light. A young man sat bent over a workbench in a corner of the airy space, working on a clay bust. He didn’t even look up as they entered, so intently focused was he on his task.
‘I’m working on a provisional sculpture of Sun Yat-sen and am struggling to perfect his eyes. They are, of course, a very different shape to our own western ones,’ Landowski stated. ‘My assistant is seeing if he can improve on my efforts.’
‘You work mostly in clay or stone, Professor Landowski?’ Heitor asked.
‘Whichever the client desires. Have you any idea what you wish for your Christ?’
