Friday, March 18, 2011


....Rambeau put down his paint brush and scowled at the model, who clutched
the draperies coquettishly to her. Idly he drew his French Congo service
machette from its leather holster at his shoulder and brought it down again
and again on the livid ugly features of the painted form.

"Mon Dieu, mon cour," Antionette breathed, 'what is it drives you so'.

Rambeau hesitated, how could he tell her, how convey the horrors of the
Congo, of the men left behind, of his return to a Paris which had forgotten
his art.

"The burnt umber," he said, "it holds too much memory".

From Rambeau Deux : Les Etoiles du Mal.

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