Chapter 13 Part 2 My first encounter with the art life... was a failure

I wandered the streets all night.At dawn I thought of a gentleman whom I had once known and whom I had admired and admired since my arrival in Paris. I know he's an artist-sculptor, and I'm sure he's a good guy.He had a big stomach, a tall hat, and a smart Lavalier tie.The most extravagant thing is that he never forgets to bring the cane with silver handle when he goes out! So, in desperation, I came to his house and offered to be his nude model, my heart pounding. He lived in the house of Mrs. Steinheil in Ronsin Street.This mad lady was the mistress of a first-class dignitary who had tragically died in the midst of a carnival!

As I recall, the artist's name was Fetus, and he was famous for making swords for the King of Belgium. He made me undress and got to work.I was shivering all over, both because of the cold and because of fear!Before, it was still warm by the bread oven!Seeing him come up to measure with a huge compass, my two skinny thighs pressed tightly together! He put one foot of the compasses on the tits and the other on the pussy.He doesn't have to work hard, he can find it right away, I have almost no hair in this part, and the position of the pussy is very high. Standing there, I can see everything in my family!Thankfully, God made a remedy and made my pussy look innocent and innocent, like a fat little girl.

After three hours of posing, he made me dress again and gave me five francs.It's amazing!At the baker's wife I only made twenty francs a month, and I really thought I was rich! However, things are too beautiful!The second time he was modeling for him, a woman dramatically broke in and ruined it all.That person is nothing short of a shrew, full of exaggerated vocabulary and swear words! ... She scolded me and cursed me to a bad end.In the end, he severed ties with me! This woman is my mother!I dare not say a word! Although one is standing on a high place, I am dejected!I felt so ridiculous, with my thighs pressed together to my knees, my shinbones apart, and my stupid feet underneath, never cared for and covered with calluses!

After my mother had gone, the sculptor, terrified by the scene, said to me: "My little Alice, you are not yet fifteen. You see, I cannot keep you as a model. I have a friend who lives at the end of the lane, in the pretty little house you can see." Lou. She is a light comedy singer and is looking for a maid. If you like, I will take you to see her. You are very good at her house, she is alone, and sometimes she also entertains a friend." I had barely brushed off from the life of an artist I had longed for, and I had to go back to my old job and go back to being a servant.I feel wronged after all.

But what other way is there?