"I would like to have the basket of flowers, but the painting is not for sale," said the Marqués who had thought of the "Hepaticas" as a gift for Lucy.
"Really?" said Horta Cornwallis, not understanding anything not being for sale.
"It belongs to his mother," Semy confirmed.
She had no interest in the paintings, which reminded her of the dreary days on her father's farm. But Nino's interest spurred her to business. She had a right to expect Semy to get the blue flowers for her, after which she would sell them to Nino, though that would only be a drop in the bucket to what Nino owed her for fixing up the Piselli deal. "I'd love to have the painting myself. Why can't he paint his mother another one?" she asked, looking at Semy significantly.
"I'll talk to him later," Semy promised.
She gathered her draperies and skins and stopped on the way out to say to Lucy, "Don't forget, my dear, Nino and I are counting on you for the ball."
"I forgot to tell you," Lucy said, "I won't be able to make it, but Ranna will."
"What a pity!" said Horta, her china teeth clinking.
If looks could kill I'd be dead on the spot. Anyway, I'm rid of her, Lucy thought relieved.
The last straggler left. Clem, exhausted and depressed, leaned on his cane. Not one painting sold. Not that he needed sales but it would have been a sign. Some important people had been there. Ma would be thrilled that her "Hepaticas" had been the favorite.
Vedder was pasting a red star on the frame of the sliced loaf of bread.
"Sold?" Clem asked stunned.
"Yes, to Lucy Claudel. Now we'll have to wait and see what the press says."
The evening of the exhibition's closing the paintings were returned to Clem.
"That's that!" he said ruefully to Semy. "That sure was a short two weeks after five years' hard work, but worth it. Vedder thinks I've made a good start with four sales and the reviews. Even Genlis said I'd sell. I think it's a healthy sign that Americans recognize American art. Vedder's keeping a few on hand, says it
