Chapter 15 oval portrait

I was badly wounded, and the valet ventured into the castle to prevent me from spending the night in the open.It was one of many castles in the Apennine Peninsula.The castles are very old and have a mixture of gloomy and majestic.Compared with the castle imagined by Mrs. Radcliffe, it is really not inferior at all.From all indications, the owner of the castle left temporarily not long ago.We settled into one of the smallest and least luxurious rooms.This room is located in a remote tower of the castle.There are many decorations in the house, but they are dilapidated and old.There were tapestries on the walls, lots and lots of different trophies of arms, and modern paintings in richly patterned gold frames, innumerable and spiritual.Not only are the main walls hanging everywhere, but even the recessed hidden walls unique to the strange building of the castle are not spared.Perhaps because I was already insane, I became very interested in these paintings.So I had Pedro draw the gloomy shutters—for it was late, light the candles in the candelabra above my bed—and draw back the fringed black velvet draperies around the bed.I hope that after all this is done, if I cannot sleep, I can at least look up at the pictures on the wall now and then and read a little booklet of reviews of them that I found next to my pillow.

I read that little book devoutly, and couldn't bear to let it go for a long time.Time passed quickly in my intoxication, and it was already midnight in a blink of an eye.The position of the candlestick made me very unhappy. I didn't want to disturb the sleeping attendant, so I stretched out my hand and moved it so that the light could better shine on the book. But the move had an unexpected effect.The light of many candles fell upon an alcove which had been obscured just now by the heavy shadow of a bedpost.In the bright candlelight, I saw a painting that I hadn't noticed before—a portrait of a young woman with the charm of a woman just coming of age.I cast only a brief glance at the portrait, and quickly closed my eyes.At first, I didn't understand why I had such a reaction.But before my lids even opened, I knew why I had to close them.It was just an impulse to have time to think—to make sure that what I saw was not a hallucination, to calm my imagination so that I could see calmer and more reliably.After a while, I opened my eyes and fixed my eyes on the painting.

Now I can see clearly.I couldn't and wouldn't do this otherwise.As soon as the candlelight hits the canvas, the dream-like trance that quietly permeates the consciousness seems to be dispelled.I woke up instantly. As I said, it was a portrait of a young girl.There are only the head and shoulders on the picture, and the so-called "virtual light painting" technique is used, which is quite similar to the head painting style that Sally is good at.The arms, chest and even the ends of the shining hair of the person in the painting are imperceptibly blurred into hazy and deep shadows, which serve as the background of the whole painting.The frame was oval, thickly gilded, and decorated in a Moorish style.But as a work of art, the most admirable thing is the portrait itself.What moved me suddenly and strongly just now could not be the technique of the painting, nor could it be the immortal beauty of the people in the painting, but the most improbable thing was my imagination that had awakened from the half-drowsy state——I actually drew The head portrait on the painting is regarded as a real girl.But I immediately understood that the characteristics of the painting's composition, vignetting, and frame must have dispelled this idea of ​​mine in an instant, and did not allow me to have the slightest idea of ​​it.I was lost in thought.For perhaps an entire hour, I half sat, half leaned on the head of the bed, gazing at the portrait.At last, having discovered the true secret of that miraculous effect, I slipped into bed, satisfied.

I found the magic of the picture - the expression of the people in the picture was absolutely lifelike.The magic stunned me at first, then confused, overwhelmed, and finally horrified.With deep awe in my heart, I moved the candlestick to its original position.The painting that excited me was kept out of sight.Eagerly I found the little booklet on painting and its origins, and turned to the page introducing the oval portrait.I read the following vague and queer passage: She was a girl of rare beauty, gay and bubbly, and utterly lovely.The unfortunate moment came when he fell in love with the painter at first sight and became his bride.

He's passionate, hard-working, no-nonsense, and, well, he's made art his bride.She, a girl of uncommon beauty, was gay, lively, and incomparably lovely; she was radiant, smiling, and played like a deer when she played; she was full of love, and cherished everything in the world.But she hates art, because art is her rival in love; she fears palettes, brushes, and other painting utensils, because they take away the smiling face of her lover.Therefore, when the artist said that he wanted to paint a young bride, the girl thought it would be a terrible thing for her.But she was soft and docile, and finally sat docilely in the tower for several weeks.The tower room was dark and high, save for a single starlight overhead that spilled onto the gray canvas.But he, the painter, considered his work an honor, and he worked hour after hour, day after day.He was such a passionate, wild, moody man, and so absorbed in his fancy, that he did not see that the bride was withered by the pale light from the lonely tower.She was devastated physically and mentally.Everyone could see her haggardness, but he didn't notice it.Yet she still smiled and sat quietly without a single complaint.Because she saw that the painter (he was very famous) got great pleasure from his work, and he painted the woman who loved him so passionately, day and night.But the woman is getting more and more sluggish and weaker.People who saw the portrait all murmured that the painting was very vivid and amazing, saying that it was really an extraordinary miracle, which not only proved the artist's profound skills, but also witnessed the artist's deep love for the person in the painting.But when the painting was nearly finished, no one was allowed to go up the tower again, for the painter's enthusiasm was almost insane, he seldom lifted his eyes from the canvas, and of course he was indifferent to his wife's face.He will not see that the color smeared on the canvas comes from the face of his wife sitting beside him.

A few weeks have passed, but the lips are missing a touch of paint, and the eye color is missing a layer of paint.The woman's weight became radiant again, like the last flicker of a flame in the candle hole.So, the last stroke of the lips is painted, and the color of the eyes is also painted. The painter stood obsessively in front of his work for a moment, and then, while he was still gazing at the picture, he began to tremble, pale and dumbstruck.Then, he exclaimed loudly: "This is life!" But when he suddenly looked at his beloved wife, she was already dead! (1850)