He doesn't know this village as well as his own; Moret-sur-Loing, where he will die in about four years, is to the west. An end he is aware of already. The pain in his well-wrapped throat is not enough to dim his curiosity, and he gently opens the door and looks after her. A carriage waits at the near end of the lane, before the church; fine horses, lanterns lit and hung high. He can see the sweep of her dark, ornamented skirts as she climbs in; she pulls the door shut with a black-gloved hand, as if to prevent the driver from getting down and delaying them further. The horses
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strain, their phantom breath visible in the air; the carriage creaks forward.
Then they are gone and the village is quiet, as usual at this hour, sinking into night. He locks the door and calls his servant from the back room for a little supper. Tomorrow he must go home to his wife and studio, waiting just up the river, and send a note to the friend who so kindly lends him this place every winter. A short drive back in the morning, and then more painting, for all the time left to him. Meanwhile, the fire has begun to throw shadows around the room and the kettle on the hob is boiling. He surveys his afternoon's landscape; the trees are quite good, and the strange woman's silhouette makes a mark of distinction on a rural road, gives it some mystery. He has added his name and two numbers to the lower left corner. Enough for now, although he will touch up her clothing tomorrow, and fix the light on those windows in the farthest house, at the end of the lane, where old Renard is mending harnesses. The paint is setting already on his new work. In six months it will be dry. He will hang it in his studio; he will take it down some sunny morning and send it to Paris.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to:
Amy Williams, agent and friend extraordinaire; Reagan Arthur, beloved editor-friend, Michael Pietsch, who lifted this book with his skill, and other much-admired colleagues at Little, Brown and Company.
Also:
Georgi H. Kostov for his wonderful reading and for the freedom to go and learn. Eleanor Johnson for her loving assistance with research in Paris and Normandy; Dr. David Johnson for his belief in this project and for a rest in the Auvergne; Jessica Honigberg for showing me a painter's mind and hands; Dr. Victoria Johnson for a renewed love of France; my Dutch uncle, Paul Howard Johnson, for his unflagging support and encouragement over four decades; Laura E. Wolfson, sister writer, for her reading and our thirty years of excursions to museums; Nicholas Delbanco, cherished mentor, for his reading and for discussions of Monet and Sisley; Julian Popov, fellow novelist, for his critiques: [FOREIGN LANGUAGE] Janet Shaw for her reading and for years of sheltering wings; Dr. Richard T. Arndt for his help with all things French: merci mille fois; Heather Ewing for her reading and her hospitality in Manhattan; Jeremiah Chamberlin for his fearless help with revisions and for cutting down on the driving; Karen Outen, Travis Holland, Natalie Bakopoulos, Mike Hinken, Paul Barron, Raymond McDaniel, Alex Miller, Josip Novakovich, Keith Taylor, Theodora Dimova, and Emil Andreev for readings/endless camaraderie in the craft;
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Peter Matthiessen, Eileen Pollack, Peter Ho Davies, and others for outstanding tutelage; Kate Dwyer, Myron Gauger, Lee Lancaster, John O'Brien, and Ilya Pérdigo Kerrigan for fragments; Iván Mozo and Larisa Curiel for hospitality in Mexico and advice on the Acapulco settings; Joel Honigberg for his thoughts on the Impressionists, which helped to spark this story; Antonia Hodgson, Chandler Gordon, Vania Tomova, Svetlozar Zhelev, and Milena Deleva for treasured friendship, publishing, translation, tales of art, and literary camaraderie; the Hopwood Program at the University of Michigan, the Ann Arbor Book Festival, the Apollonia Festival of Arts in Bulgaria, the MFA program at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, and the American University in Bulgaria for hosting public readings of passages from this work; Rick Weaver for allowing me to observe his painting class at the Art League in Alexandria; Dr. Toma Tomov for information about the psychiatric profession, Dr. Monica Starkman for the same and for her invaluable help with the editing of this book; Dr. John Merriman, Dr. Michèle Hanoosh, and Dr. Katherine Ibbett for help with French history and sources; Anna K. Reimann, Elizabeth Sheldon, and Alice Daniel for all their moral support; Guy Livingston for twenty-five years of brotherhood in the arts; Charles E. Waddell for his excellent suggestion; Dr. Mary Anderson for wise counsel; Andrea Renzenbrink, Willow Arlen, Frances Dahl, Kristy Garvey, Emily Rolka, and Julio and Diana Szabo for outstanding help with my household at various periods during the writing of this book; Anthony Lord, Dr. Virginia McKinley, Mary Parker, Josephine Schaeffer, and Eleanor Waddell Stephens -- beloved introductions to France and the French language. Other family, friends, students, and institutions I cannot even begin to list.
Finally, I am indebted to Joseph Conrad and his great portrait, Lord Jim; may the author's spirit enjoy and forgive the heartfelt homage I've paid in these pages.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Kostova graduated from Yale and holds an MFA from the University of Michigan, where she won the Hopwood Award for the Novel-in-Progress.
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Elizabeth Kostova, The Swan Thieves
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