Extract from Chapter 43

He readjusted her veil.

It was the sixth or seventh time he had done so. As he went back to his easel I looked more carefully at how the veil hung around her face. Why was he so unhappy with it today? The Donna Lisa was usually able to arrange herself almost exactly as he required.

On the days the Maestro decided he would paint her I was sent ahead to ensure that she was available and had time to prepare. She would dress in the agreed costume and go to the studio room. With the help of her nurse she would arrange herself in her chair, her clothes draped, her body posed, exactly as she had been doing for the previous months. When he arrived he made the minor adjustments necessary and then the session would begin. I would either leave or stay as he commanded.

Sometimes he barely waited half an hour in the house, other times he spent half a day or more. When painting her he might stand for very many minutes staring at her or at the portrait. This did not discomfit her. She was a woman who could sit in silence and with her own thoughts. He would come out of his reverie and say a word or two, and she would continue the conversation seamlessly as though an hour had not elapsed. She had her own time and occupied her space in it and was not uncomfortable with his long silences. However, if he felt that her mood was heavy he would ask me to tell a story aloud and I would oblige.

What was wrong with the veil? Had she set it further back from her face?

He continued but only worked for a matter of minutes before putting down his paintbrush.

‘You must tell me what is amiss.’

‘There is nothing amiss, Messer Leonardo.’

‘There is something troubling you.’

‘Not at all.’

‘The lady I have painted on this board is not the one sitting before me.’

He was teasing her. And she responded.

‘I am my own best companion. I assure you it is I.’

He sighed and lifted his brush again.

But there was something altered in her. I studied her carefully and tried to see what he could see. Her dress was the same. Her hair, her veil, her expression . . .

 

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