Lili Page 6

  “When I entered the class in the academy the following day, I found the comrades in the thick of a discussion of the carnival night. Hauwitz was the most enthusiastic of them all. He recounted is experiences in the grand manner.

  “‘But where were you hiding yesterday?’ he attacked me at once. The others, too, asked me why I had not been present, especially as Grete had been there.

  “I explained that I had not felt well. Anyhow, I knew that the comrades enjoyed themselves very much, especially Hauwitz, who had courted a pierrette very ardently. “How did I know that, threw in Hauwitz, flattered: a man could not move, it seemed, without giving rise to gossip; who, then, has been so indiscreet as to betray his little adventure?

  “‘I know you’re a famous heart-breaker,’ said I. ‘Let’s hear all about it.’

  “At first Hauwitz refused chivalrously. ‘I hope I am a gentleman. Moreover, the pierrette was really a fabulous person.’

  “He simpered horribly and winked at me expectantly. The others crowded round him. ‘Fire away, Hauwitz,’ they encouraged him.

  “‘No; friend Sparre seems to know all about it. Ask him,’ he replied meaningfully.

  “‘But, my dear Hauwitz, please do not misunderstand me. I should be the last to give anyone away,’ I retorted, inquiring at the same time:

  “‘Was she really so pretty, then?’

  “‘You can suppose as much as you like,’ broke out Hauwitz. ‘You cannot go too far in your suppositions. An unheard of thing!’

  “Whereupon he relapsed into silence, which was more eloquent than the coarsest boasting.

  “To my intimate friends I afterwards confessed who the pierrette was. Hauwitz was only initiated into the secret much later, after he had found further opportunity to pose as Casanova.

  “This ball was followed by many others, at which Lili became accustomed to her rôle with growing success. Grete titivated her each time, so that this strange creature who had suddenly emerged in Copenhagen artistic circles began to cause a stir. Lili gradually became indispensable to Grete. For, strange as all this may now sound, it was not I who dressed up as Lili, but both for me and for Grete Lili very soon became a perfectly independent person, in fact, a playmate for Grete, her own playmate and her toy at the same time.

  “Lili and I became two beings. If Lili was not there, we spoke of her as of a third person. And when Lili was there that is, when I was not there – I was spoken of between her and Grete as of a third person. And soon our most intimate friends learned all this. But it was still a game for many years.

  “In the depths of her soul Grete is utterly melancholy. And to banish such feeling she summoned her playmate Lili. Lili, was, in fact, carelessness and serenity personified. Gradually Lili became equally important to her mistress in the capacity of a model; indeed – I can say it calmly now – Lili has been Grete’s favourite model. Whether it was chance or not, Grete had more and more success with pictures for which Lili posed as model. And she began to see in Lili a kind of mascot, a talisman that brought luck. A large number of Grete’s pictures and drawings originated at that time in our first studio in Copenhagen, in which Lili appears as model in a hundred different poses. Grete’s artistic fame spread. But nobody knew who was concealed behind the model. Legends sprang up around it. Rumour also began to whisper, without, however, discovering the track of the secret.

  “A well-known writer asserted that the model Lili was no creature of flesh and blood at all, but merely a female type, upon which Grete’s imagination had fastened, and therefore an empty caprice.

  “Only a few suspected the connection. But nobody knew anything definite about the mystery of Lili – with the exception of Anna Larsen, who, however, had been sworn to silence. She kept her word.

  “One day Grete received an invitation from Paris to exhibit her ‘Lili sketches’.

  “And so the three of us were transplanted to Paris: Grete, I, and – Lili.”

  VII

  “Before our removal to Paris we had already made several journeys abroad.

  “Whenever we were able to spare sufficient money from the sale of our pictures – we were extremely frugal in our mode of living – we had travelled South, to study, to paint, and to become acquainted with the world. Lili had not been with us upon any of these trips. There were too many new things to see for Grete and I to find any time to devote to her. But as soon as we found ourselves again in our native studio, she reappeared – and then we had to acknowledge every time that we had really missed her.

  “We spent almost a whole year in Italy without Lili. It was the most carefree year which I ever passed with Grete. The romance of the South was an indescribably splendid revelation to us two children of the North.

  “How could we find time to play? Grete was at that time serenity itself. In Italy’s wonderland she never felt oppressed. She needed no distraction. Hence Lili was not conjured up by her.

  “And yet Lili was probably more than ever closely bound up with us both. Only it was no longer a pastime. About that time I began to undergo a change in myself, the nature of which I did not then realize. I first became aware of it in Italy just at that time, through my influence upon others. In Florence an unfortunate person approached me. He was a wealthy foreigner. One day, after he had been dogging me for weeks, he spoke to me and suggested that I should take up my quarters in his villa, where I could pursue my studies as a painter to my heart’s content. I declined politely, but very firmly. After that I saw him frequently. I was always with a lady, either with Grete or in the company of a strikingly beautiful Sicilian. A very little more and I should have been obliged to challenge this poor creature to a duel with pistols.

  “In Rome I had a similar adventure. In that city an American millionaire wanted me to accompany him to Egypt. He pestered not only me, but also Grete. He sailed alone to Alexandria.

  “Never before had I been placed in such delicate situations. Why this happened just then in Italy I only realized much later. When Professor Kreutz recently saw in Paris a number of photographs taken of me during recent years, including some taken on my first Italian trip, he pointed to these very pictures with the words: ‘That was when Lili could be distinctly recognized in appearance for the first time.’

  “In due course we returned to Paris.

  “In the neighbourhood of the Ecole des Beaux Arts, on the left bank of the Seine, we stayed in one of the numerous small hotels. The landlord and his wife were not attractive, but their charming little daughter was a ravishing kitten. Their like is only to be found in Paris.

  “Two pleasant rooms, painted bright red and greyish colours, were assigned to us. One of them overlooked an old neglected garden, and had a mysterious alcove, with red-diapered curtains. The factotum of the hotel, Jean by name, lost no time in telling us that Oscar Wilde had spent his last days in these two rooms. He had died in the alcove with the red-diapered curtains. As Jean was telling us this, the tears ran down his ill-shorn cheeks. He had reason to regret Oscar Wilde’s death. Many a twenty-franc piece had been given him by the unfortunate poet, with which to buy a few sous’ worth of cigarettes, and he had never been asked for the change, he added, as a delicate hint to us.

  “For Grete and I these two quiet rooms were altogether delightful. We often sat in front of the broad window overlooking the garden and read page after page of the works of the poet, whom I had admired for many years. Gradually Grete and I came to know De Profundis and The Ballad of Reading Gaol by heart. They were lovely evenings.

  “Quite close to the hotel we found our favourite café, ‘Chateau neuf du Pape’, where art students and poets met daily. A very modest little restaurant; but one could dine sumptuously there for one franc thirty. The wine was included in the price. Here we met our first Parisian friends.

  “Shortly afterwards Grete was invited by the editor to contribute to a well-known Parisian illustrated periodical. He had, in fact, seen Grete’s pictures and sketches at her first exhibition in Paris.


  “Grete was all on fire to begin her contributions immediately. But what should she offer? How quickly could she hunt up a suitable model?

  “She looked at me inquiringly, hesitated a few moments, and then said: ‘What do you think if Lili …

  “I confess that I was at first somewhat surprised. I too had forgotten Lili in the midst of the hubbub of Paris, just as I had during our first Italian trip. Here in Paris Grete had hitherto not required the company of Lili either for the purposes of her work or by way of distraction.

  “‘Very good,’ I said; ‘but what shall she put on?’ “Lili’s ‘outfit’ had been left behind in Copenhagen.

  Lili, Paris, 1926

  Quite apart from the fact that Lili was considerably bigger than the very dainty Grete, the strictest separation of property was observed by us with regard to the wardrobe. “The most necessary things for Lili were quickly procured. She was not a little proud of her first real Parisian costume.

  “Thus she came to life again in the heart of Paris. The sketches for which she sat as model were successful. Grete was radiant. She obtained considerable prices for her work and we were able to rent a pleasant studio for ourselves. We settled in Paris, and built up our circle of friends and acquaintances.

  “I too was now painting a great deal, partly in Paris, partly in Versailles, where we passed the warm summer months.

  “A few happy and harmonious years were now in store for Grete and me. Lili only appeared in our midst when Grete urgently needed her as a model. We earned good money and Grete could hire ‘strange models’.

  “When we had put aside sufficient money for an educational tour, we set out again for Italy. Our objective was Capri. For years we had been longing to become acquainted with this paradise of sunshine.

  “Scarcely had we arrived there than to our great delight we ran up against a painter from Florence whose acquaintance we had made during our first Italian journey. Nino we called him. Henceforth we were inseparable. Within a few days we had more acquaintances among the cosmopolitan artists with whom Capri was teeming than was always agreeable. Three or four times a day we met at the ‘Morgano’, and evening after evening we played chess and draughts. It went without saying that we mustered our full strength during bathing-hours on the tiny beach at Piccola Marina.

  “Here we met one day a Scotsman, who always appeared in the company of a very pretty boy. When bathing the boy was transformed, to our astonishment, into a very nice girl.

  “‘Just what I expected,’ declared a Venetian sculptor who belonged to our clique when this revelation burst upon us. ‘I knew it from the start! A girl cannot impersonate a man, neither can a man impersonate a girl. Those who have eyes to see can detect the deception immediately. Some superficial thing always gives the game away.’ The man’s name was Favio.

  “Grete threw me a saucy look. I understood what it meant. At the hour of promenade the next afternoon Grete appeared in the company of a tall, slender young lady whom no one had hitherto seen in Capri. They strolled past the ‘Morgano’, where Grete had to return many curious greetings from friends and acquaintances. Suddenly Signora Favio, the sculptor’s wife, spoke to the two ladies, inquired after me, and expressed the hope that I was not ill, as no one had seen me that day. Would Grete and I like to come to a social evening at her villa near Monte Tiberio?

  “Grete regretted that Andreas had been obliged to go to Naples to attend to some important business, and he would not be back until early the following morning.

  “Then she introduced her beautiful companion ‘Mademoiselle Lili Cortaud … Signora Favio.’

  “The signora had achieved her aim, and she hastened to invite Mademoiselle Lili with Madame Sparre to the social evening. We accepted with pleasure.

  “The mystification succeeded beyond all expectation. Grete’s French friend was welcomed with extreme cordiality by the whole company. A well-known Norwegian lady novelist pledged Mademoiselle Lili in a lively toast as ‘the most perfect incarnation of French charm and Parisian elegance’. She did not stir from Lili’s side. She invited Lili to visit her in Norway.

  “Lili and Grete were both delighted, for the enchanting, perhaps I should say the piquant, thing about this new friendship was that this passionate Norwegian had hitherto shown a striking aversion to me.

  “In the following days Grete’s French friend gave a few more performances. In order to explain my continued absence, Grete told everybody who was curious on the point that her friend Lili and I did not get on at all well together. But Capri is a small place, and Lili was soon obliged to ‘depart’, in order to leave the field clear for me to return. Favio and all the others remained completely unsuspecting.

  “When we returned to Paris, it frequently happened that after Grete had employed her as a model during the hours of daylight, Lili remained in bed during the whole evening. And if one or other of our intimate friends dropped in, she did not, as formerly, fly into another room, but stayed where she was and where the others were, and behaved charmingly.

  “Gradually everybody came to like her. She was, as Grete was always obliged to acknowledge, the good fairy of all our little studio festivities.

  “But everybody made a great distinction between Lili and me. Grete’s female friends, who treated me with almost ceremonial propriety, embraced Lili and petted her. So did Grete’s and my male friends.

  “It was also strange that when Lili found herself among Grete’s lady friends – who, like herself, were artists almost without exception – she felt remarkably the most feminine of them all. At first the friends laughed somewhat heartily at this fact, but gradually observed that Lili’s feeling was genuine.

  “And thus it came to pass that month after month Lili insisted with growing stubbornness on her rights, and gave place to me with increasing reluctance.

  “In the Salon d’Automne, where we both exhibited, Grete and I had met a French sculptor, Jean Tempête. This acquaintance was to lead to new experiences for Lili.

  “He possessed a summer-house in a small town on the Loire. Assisted by a number of friends, he intended giving a theatrical performance upon the tiny stage of this small town for charitable purposes. Balgencie was the name of the place.

  “He invited Grete and me to take part.

  “It proved to be a delightful drive. The small town was a miniature Rothenburg.

  “The ‘theatre’, which was to be occupied by us that same evening, looked from the outside like a tobacco shop with a café attached. The interior was usually let for cinematograph exhibitions and dances. As there was only one piece of scenery, which, moreover, was useless for our purpose, Grete was immediately appointed scene-painter. With lightning rapidity she sketched the stage scenery for the revue, which had been composed by Jean Tempête himself.

  “At six o’clock in the evening everything was ready, and at nine o’clock the performance was to begin.

  “At seven o’clock Tempête and I went to the station, in order to fetch the only member of our company who was still missing, a young lady artist who for some reason or other had not been able to travel with the others. She had to play a minor part, that of a typical Parisienne.

  “The train arrived, but our Parisienne was not on board. It was the last train before the performance.

  “Tempête raved. Small as the part was, without the player the piece would collapse.

  “‘Then we must ask Grete to step into the breach,’ I declared.

  “Grete and I, who had only been invited to join the travelling party at the eleventh hour, did not belong to the company of players.

  “‘An excellent idea!’ exclaimed Tempête, and the moment he entered the so-called hotel where we had found rooms, he pounced upon Grete immediately. Completely exhausted by her scene-painting, she was lying on a rickety sofa.

  “‘Out of the question,’ she declared. ‘With the best will in the world, I cannot do it.’ Then she gave me a furtive look. ‘But perhaps … Lili can?’
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br />   “‘Who is Lili?’ asked Tempête. They all asked the same question.

  “‘Don’t worry about that. The main thing is that she comes. She can play the part without any trouble,’ Grete assured the curious circle. She caught hold of Tempête, drew him aside, and gave him the necessary explanations. He shook with laughter, promised to hold his tongue, and then it was arranged that while Lili was being dressed he should initiate her into the part of the fast-dyed Parisienne in the seclusion of an hotel sitting-room.

  “When evening came and the revue was launched in front of a crowded audience, not a soul in the hall suspected that Lili was not a genuine Parisienne. Moreover, the poetically-minded chemist of Balgencie, who was a member of the charity committee, was so enthusiastic over Lili that he sent a box of violet soap to the unknown beauty at her hotel.

  “On this evening Lili became acquainted with her truest friend, Claude Lejeune, the tenor of the revue. He was the comic character of the evening. His mere appearance on the stage unloosed a storm of merriment. He was the only real artiste in this company of amateurs; that is to say, he was the only member of it who was not an amateur. “Earlier in the day I had already noticed this young artiste, who with his droll, lightning wit might have bobbed up in any Montmartre bar. He had completely irregular features and colourless, somewhat deep-set eyes, the whole capped by a funny, pointed nose. At first glance he would probably appear ugly, but if one looked at him somewhat longer one would become conscious of a remarkable geniality and kindliness which his whole personality radiated.

  “If anything he had given me (Andreas) the cold shoulder, but his conduct towards Lili was of quite another character.

  “It went without saying that, like the rest of his colleagues from Paris, he was soon ‘in the picture’. As for the rest, discretion was observed.