- end_line
- 3576
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3509
- text
- "'Have you been painting my portrait or not, cousin Ralph?' said your
father, very suddenly and pointedly.
"'I have painted nothing that looks as you there look,' said cousin
Ralph, evasively, observing in your father's face a fierce-like
expression, which he had never seen there before. And more than that,
your father could not get from him."
"And what then?" said little Pierre.
"Why not much, my child; only your father never so much as caught one
glimpse of that picture; indeed, never knew for certain, whether there
was such a painting in the world. Cousin Ralph secretly gave it to me,
knowing how tenderly I loved your father; making me solemnly promise
never to expose it anywhere where your father could ever see it, or any
way hear of it. This promise I faithfully kept; and it was only after
your dear father's death, that I hung it in my chamber. There, Pierre,
you now have the story of the chair-portrait."
"And a very strange one it is," said Pierre--"and so interesting, I
shall never forget it, aunt."
"I hope you never will, my child. Now ring the bell, and we will have a
little fruit-cake, and I will take a glass of wine, Pierre;--do you
hear, my child?--the bell--ring it. Why, what do you do standing there,
Pierre?"
"_Why_ didn't papa want to have cousin Ralph paint his picture, aunt?"
"How these children's minds do run!" exclaimed old aunt Dorothea staring
at little Pierre in amazement--"That indeed is more than I can tell you,
little Pierre. But cousin Ralph had a foolish fancy about it. He used to
tell me, that being in your father's room some few days after the last
scene I described, he noticed there a very wonderful work on
Physiognomy, as they call it, in which the strangest and shadowiest
rules were laid down for detecting people's innermost secrets by
studying their faces. And so, foolish cousin Ralph always flattered
himself, that the reason your father did not want his portrait taken
was, because he was secretly in love with the French young lady, and did
not want his secret published in a portrait; since the wonderful work on
Physiognomy had, as it were, indirectly warned him against running that
risk. But cousin Ralph being such a retired and solitary sort of a
youth, he always had such curious whimsies about things. For my part, I
don't believe your father ever had any such ridiculous ideas on the
subject. To be sure, I myself can not tell you _why_ he did not want his
picture taken; but when you get to be as old as I am, little Pierre, you
will find that every one, even the best of us, at times, is apt to act
very queerly and unaccountably; indeed some things we do, we can not
entirely explain the reason of, even to ourselves, little Pierre. But
you will know all about these strange matters by and by."
"I hope I shall, aunt," said little Pierre--"But, dear aunt, I thought
Marten was to bring in some fruit-cake?"
"Ring the bell for him, then, my child."
"Oh! I forgot," said little Pierre, doing her bidding.
By-and-by, while the aunt was sipping her wine; and the boy eating his
cake, and both their eyes were fixed on the portrait in question; little
Pierre, pushing his stool nearer the picture exclaimed--"Now, aunt, did
papa really look exactly like that? Did you ever see him in that same
buff vest, and huge-figured neckcloth? I remember the seal and key,
pretty well; and it was only a week ago that I saw mamma take them out
of a little locked drawer in her wardrobe--but I don't remember the
queer whiskers; nor the buff vest; nor the huge white-figured neckcloth;
did you ever see papa in that very neckcloth, aunt?"
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