“That makes no difference, I could have the talent of a Fragonard or Jacques-Louis David and still notbe allowed to be hung next to the most amateurish of male daubers. It’s not fair, but that’s the way of life.” She shrugged. “Oh, well, I know it’s good.”
“Are you almost finished?”
“Just a few more touches and the signature.” Juliette wiped her perspiring brow with her sleeve. “I notice Michel’s been spending a good deal of time with Philippe.”
Catherine nodded as she picked a blade of grass and chewed on it. “Philippe’s tried very hard to become friends with Michel since he returned from Marseilles.”
“Have you forgiven him?”
“Forgiven him for being Philippe?” She shrugged. “It isn’t my place to forgive him. It’s Michel’s. And Michel sees nothing to forgive.”
“But you can’t view him in the same fashion?”
“No, but we both love Vasaro.”
“I don’t like it,” Juliette said flatly. “If you keep on in this vein, you’ll end up by marrying the peacock.”
Catherine looked down at the ground. “It’s…a possibility.” Catherine added, “Not soon. But I must have a daughter for Vasaro at some time.”
Juliette shook her head. “You deserve more.”
“Philippe is a cheerful companion, he works hard—”
“And he’s certainly proven he can father any number of progeny.”
Catherine smothered a smile. “Only you would say something so outrageous.” Her smile faded. “I need someone besides Michel. I’m…lonely, Juliette.”
Juliette was silent for a moment before glancing over the top of her easel at Catherine. “Then send for François.”
Catherine stiffened. “François?”
“Why won’t you talk about François, Catherine? I’ve told you what forced him to make the decision at the abbey and I think you understand.”
“I don’t wish to speak of François. I know you have a great admiration for him but—”
“You refuse to forgive him when you’ve obviously forgiven Philippe. Even after I told you why it wasnecessary he withhold his help at the abbey, you still won’t talk about him.” Juliette looked down at the painting. “I’ve been thinking about it and I believe I know why you can’t forgive him.”
“Juliette, I don’t wish—”
“Because you love him. You don’t love Philippe, so it’s easy to forgive his faults.” She shook her head. “Mother of God, at the abbey François didn’t even know you. How could he betray you?”
Catherine stood up and jerkily brushed the grass from her gown. “You know nothing of how I feel.”
“Who could know you better? I don’t understand why…” Juliette frowned as she stared thoughtfully at Catherine. “Or perhaps it’s not really a question of forgiveness at all. Did he refuse to stay with you here at Vasaro? Couldn’t you hold him here in your Eden?”
“He wanted to stay! He said so. I—” Catherine broke off and gazed at Juliette defiantly. “And he said there was nothing wrong with my wanting to stay at Vasaro.”
“But you knew he was wrong, didn’t you?” Juliette put her brush down and regretfully shook her head. “Dear heaven, we were all so happy you’d found peace and contentment here at Vasaro we were afraid to probe beneath the surface.”
“I love Vasaro.”
“Who wouldn’t love it? But he still left you, didn’t he? And you know he would leave you again.”
“Yes!” Catherine exploded, driven. “He won’t stay here. He’ll go back to that horrible place and I’ll have to—” Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what she had said. “Mother of God…”
“And you know to admit you love François is to be forced to leave Vasaro. Tell me, have you ever written in the journal I gave you?”
“I write in it every day.”
