Masterpiece by Elise Broach Read Free Book Online

technique is so similar to Dürer’s.”
    James nodded, speechless.
    Slowly they moved along the wall of drawings, stopping to study each one. There were other small landscapes, pictures of an old woman and a girl, a pen-and-ink drawing of a rabbit. They were almost photographic in their details, yet startlingly distinct. The faces looked like real people, Marvin thought, with the ruggedness of noses and chins, expressions full of feeling. Near the end of the wall, James stopped.
    “Look at this one, Dad. It’s so little. What’s it supposed to be?”
    Marvin crept out from under James’s collar. Thedrawing was a tiny framed miniature of a gowned woman kneeling, with her arms around an animal. A lion. She had waves of hair that cascaded down her back, and the lion’s mane flowed in similar waves over its massive shoulders.

     
    Karl read the plaque. “It says it’s one of the four cardinal virtues: Fortitude. Do you know what that means?”
    “No,” said James.
    “Courage. Strength.”
    “Is she trying to catch the lion?”
    “Well, sort of wrestling with it, I think. Look at the detail, though. Look at the folds of her dress and the lion’s claws. Dürer’s hand is so precise. That’s what made me think of your drawing, James.” Karl squeezed James’s shoulder.
    I could do that
, thought Marvin. He was riveted.
    “Karl?”
    They all turned at the voice. Emerging from the loose clusters of people in the gallery was one rumpled-looking older man, walking directly toward them and smiling warmly. “I thought that was you.”

 

The Woman and the Lion
     
    “D enny! Hey! How are you?” Karl grinned broadly, thrusting out his hand. “James, this is Dennis MacGuffin, an old friend from my Pratt days. Remember? The art college? Denny, my son, James.”
    Denny crouched slightly, winking at James. “Not so old, eh, James? It’s nice to meet you. I’m always delighted to see young people at an exhibit like this.”
    “What are you doing here, Denny? I thought you were out west somewhere. . . . California, wasn’t it?”
    Denny nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I’m at the Getty now. Curator of Drawings. The Dürer and this Bellini over here are ours.”
    He gestured to a similar picture of a woman and a lion, hanging next to the one they were staring at. It was the same size, but Marvin thought it seemed less delicate, the pen strokes thicker.
    Denny continued, “We’ve got a number of items on loan for this exhibit, and I’ve been helping Ms. Balconywith the arrangements.” He beckoned to a woman who was skirting the crowds and walking in their direction, her gaze darting over the drawings.

     
    Marvin edged out from underneath James’s collar. She was slim and tidy-looking, her blouse tucked in, her honey-colored hair drawn back in a neat bun. Black rectangular glasses sat firmly on her small nose. He saw that she was very pretty, but she had the unself-conscious manner of someone who was totally oblivious to that fact—which only made her seem prettier. Marvin liked her instantly.
    “Christina,” Denny called to her. “Come meet my friends Karl Terik and his son, James. You may have heard of Karl’s work. He shows at Ernst Auger’s gallery. In addition to being one of my favorite people, he’s an excellent artist.”
    Christina Balcony approached them, smiling. “Terik? No, I’m afraid not.”
    “My
Freedom
series was at the Steinholm last fall. Large abstracts?” Marvin thought Karl sounded embarrassed, but hopeful.
    “No, doesn’t ring a bell.”
    “Or maybe you saw some of my work at the Whitney Biennial?”
    Christina shook her head. “But anything less than four hundred years old is quite beyond my area of expertise.”
    “Expertise or interest?” Karl asked, and Marvin was surprised to hear a note of irritation in his voice.
    “Well, both, I suppose,” she said, laughing. “I’m sorry. Please don’t take my ignorance as any sort of verdict on your work. I’m stuck in