Cihlar & Egeler - The Saint and her Fool

She relents to the choice of a red dress, which she considers extremely boring and even agrees to take off the waist belt; set with jewelry, pearl-embroidery and fringes. In fact, she even speaks very contemptuously of the additional adornments, distorting and spoiling the sleek fashion cutting. But to further concessions - Harro wants a nice old Venetian lace collar on her décolleté- she does not agree; she knows she has a beautiful neck, so why cover? No one wears lace collars anymore.

„I notice you would like to make an ancestress of me - anything but that! I do not wish people to be bored when looking at my features”.

In the large hall where the light is best, a studio is prepared. Rosemarie attends the progress of this event with utmost interest; to watch Harro paint is one of her greatest joys in life. But she soon realizes that her presence is not required and she must be content to look upon the progress of the painting after the sessions. When the bell sounds for dinner and Mama rushes off in all her resplendence, leaving Harro to clean his brushes, little Rose slips into the room. Harro never accepts the invitation to dinner; this would take too much of his time.

„Now comes the highest level of criticism,“ he greets her.

„Oh, Harro, I hardly could wait.“ She sits on the chair, elbows on her knees and hands buried in her golden hair; a thoughtful little elf.

„Well ...go ahead, I am prepared for everything you might criticize. „

„Harro, the shades of red glow beautifully, especially in the shadows.“

„Is the dress the main subject?“

Saint Rose nods seriously. „I do think so, Harro.“

„My Rose ...you prove to be right again. You are awful, Darling, if you continue with your cleverness ... yes, the red ... it is so intense.“ He remembers that the Duchess had sulkily asked him, if her maid should wear the dress. With a sigh, he stands behind the child.

„And what else do you have to say?“

„That it is splendid, although it is an evil red. If I ever have a puppet theater, the wicked queen will be dressed like that.”

„Princess,“ cautions Frau von Hardenstein, „what are you saying? If anyone heard you… evil colors do not exist.”

Harro’s sigh now sounds closer to a groan. „Hold back your criticism yet, Saint Rose, until I have visualized and refined the face and hands. I have been so enchanted by this color, such a lively and vigorous shade of red, but I surely need to work more on the vibrancy of the Duchess so as not to just paint a rigid still life portrait.”

„Rosemarie, isn’t Count Thorstein here and is painting Mama’s portrait? Why are you not there watching? I know you like it so much“, inquires the Duke the next day.

„Mama is not pleased with my attendance.“

„Did she say that?“

„No, but I can feel it. Father, I am afraid you will not like Harro`s painting.”

„Why shouldn’t I? Is it not good?”

„More beautiful than he has ever painted a portrait. The other portraits on the walls are surely amazed at its beauty and can hardly look away when the door opens“.

The Duke has long ago ceased to fret about such words. Today, his mind is occupied with other things; thoughts that seem cluttered through the fine texture as wisps of torn cobwebs.

„Rosemarie, I believe that your joy of watching Harro paint should not be taken from you. Go in and bring these beautiful orchids to Mama that I have sought for with greatest solicitude in the greenhouse.“

„Oh Father, you are right; the flowers will look wonderful in Mama’s portrait!“

The child rushes away, clutching the branches of fragrant flowering branches.

In the large hall, the buzzing of a captive bee can be heard in the silence. The Duchess is sitting on one of the old, straight chairs. The austere form in contrast to the soft contours of her body is so incredibly picturesque; more so as if posed in a chaise longue.

Harro stands in front of his easel and is painting with a grim earnestness. That the Duchess, who hates pensiveness, agrees to such a setting seems very strange. Quite timidly, the child enters with the flowers, holding them out as a placatory gift.

„Mama, Father sends you these flowers; you know that the court gardener does not like to give them away. Harro, look how beautiful and unusual they are.”

The Duchess frowns. „I thought you are having your French lesson.“

„It is finished already. Harro, don’t you also think they emphasize the color of Mama's dress? You said her hands needed something to hold.”

Rosemarie gently puts the stems into the Duchess’ hand and she accepts the orchids with a wry smile, obedient as a lamb.

„Excellent, my Rose, this is exactly what I was looking for.“ Harro winks an eye at her.

The Duchess sees this with annoyance. „I feel ridiculous; must this be? I am certainly not some kind of colorless flower maiden that needs this sort of sentimental embellishment! If you think my hands need something to hold, give me a brown and yellow riding crop, if it must be these colors.”

„Mama, it looks splendid and you do hold onto them as if they were more a whip than flowers. These orchids are not just regular flowers, but they appear to be goblets and small, magical animals with wings.”

„As if I would hold a whip with crawling, nasty little creatures in my hand ...! Count Thorstein, please admonish her, this young lady is behaving too impertinent!”

„She is, you are right, but this is her privilege because she is right in most cases, as in this case; the peduncle looks like glistening jewels in your hands. I beg your Highness to please believe me; it is not sentimental at all. It would never occur to me to paint you with common flowers as Forget-me-nots! „

„Well, this comforts me…. Not even with a lily?“

„Neither that ... you must consent, Milady; the flowers smell wonderful. These are plants from an enchanted forest which numb the senses, with cups that embody the source of magical potions.“

„Count Thorstein, you seem to have a poetic side; does this often happen?“

„With great reluctance, Milady, and quite involuntarily.“ Harro is standing close to the Duchess; her white shoulders seem to shine and a sparkle glints in her brown eyes. Her delicate hands fondle the flowers and he takes in their strong scent. Harro eyes wander over her shoulders and as the Duchess bends over, the soft curves of her breasts are visible under the glowing silk. It takes Harro a rather long time to arrange the flowers in her hands until he returns to his easel. After that moment, the imprisoned bee’s angry buzzing is again the only sound to be heard. The painted eyes of the portraits are staring from the walls, as the late afternoon light descends upon them.

Rosemarie is overwhelmed by an unutterable sadness. It has descended onto her from nowhere and entwined her heart with fine cobwebs. She sits there in silence and stares at the flying and sometimes resting of his paintbrush ... there, the gongs of the dinner bell ... the Duchess rises, carelessly leaving the beautiful orchids to glide to the ground. She smiles and tilts her pretty head gently, a gracious nod - a beautiful young lady who has amused herself excellently and so she swooshes off. At the door she turns and smiles enticingly again; the tall Earl is bending down to pick up the flowers, the smile he does not see. But the child has seen it.

„Go, darling, to get a vase for the flowers,“ says Harro absentmindedly. The child leaves the room with gentle, virtually silent steps, as if she fears to wake someone. When she returns, Harro is standing at his easel and paints in quiet contemplation, as if his hands moved on their own. For half an hour, he continues painting and the child stands quietly beside him with her hands folded on her back. Suddenly, she pulls at his sleeve.