104
BERNARD MALAMUD
sight, possessible, all but its elusive spirit; after so long he was
still
straniero. He was then struck by a thought:
if
you could paint this
sight, give it its quality in yours, the spirit belonged to you. History
become esthetic! Fidelman's scalp thickened. A wild rush of things
he might paint swept sweetly through him: saints in good .and bad
health, whole or maimed, in gold and red; nude gray rabbis at
Auschwitz, black or white Negroes-what not when any color dripped
from your brush? And if these, so also ANNAMARIA ES
PUL–
CHRA. He
all
but cheered. What more intimate possession of a
woman! He would paint her, whether she permitted or not, posed or
not-she was his to paint, he could with eyes shut. Maybe something
will come after all of my love for her. His spirits elevated, Fidelman
ran most of the way home.
It took him eight days, a labor of love. He tried her as
nude and although able to imagine every inch of her, could not
commit it to canvas. Then he suffered until it occurred to him to
paint her as "Virgin with Child." The idea astonished and elated
him. Fidelman went feverishly to work and caught an immediate
likeness in paint. Annamaria, saintly beautiful, held in her anns
the infant resembling his little nephew Georgie. The pittrice, aware,
of course, of his continuous activity, cast curious glances his way, but
Fidelman, painting in the corner by the stone sink, kept the easel
turned away from her. She pretended unconcern. Done for the day
he covered the painting and carefully guarded it. The art student
was painting Annamaria in a passion of tenderness for the infant at
her breast, her face responsive to its innocence. When, on the ninth
day, in trepidation Fidelman revealed his work, the pittrice's eyes
clouded and her underlip curled. He was about to grab the canvas
and smash it up
all
over the place when her expression fell apart.
The art student postponed all movement but visible trembling.
She seemed at first appalled, a darkness descended on her, she was
undone. She wailed wordlessly, then sobbed, "You have seen my
souL" They embraced tempestuously, her breasts stabbing him, Anna–
maria bawling on his shoulder. Fidelman kissed her wet face and
salted lips, she murmuring as he fooled with the hook of her brassiere
under her sweater, "Aspetta, aspetta, caro, Augusto viene." He was
mad with expectation and suspense.
Augusto, who usually arrived punctually at four, did not appear
