Individually, no one section of the canvas had life, had
meaning; but, as a whole, it glowed, it lived--it was genius. Above all,
it was uncanny.
This, Denise Ryland fully realized, but critics had grown so used to
treating the work of Olaf van Noord as a joke, that "Our Lady of the
Poppies" in all probability would never be judged seriously.
"What does it mean, Mr. van Noord?" asked Helen Cumberly, leaving the
group of worshipers standing hushed in rapture before the canvas and
approaching the painter. "Is there some occult significance in the
title?"
"It is a priestess," replied the artist, in his dreamy fashion....
"A priestess?"
"A priestess of the temple."...
Helen Cumberly glanced again at the astonishing picture.
"Do you mean," she began, "that there is a living original?"
Olaf van Noord bowed absently, and left her side to greet one who at
that moment entered the studio. Something magnetic in the personality
of the newcomer drew all eyes from the canvas to the figure on the
threshold. The artist was removing garish tiger skin furs from the
shoulders of the girl--for the new arrival was a girl, a Eurasian girl.
She wore a tiger skin motor-coat, and a little, close-fitting,
turban-like cap of the same. The coat removed, she stood revealed in a
clinging gown of silk; and her feet were shod in little amber colored
slippers with green buckles.
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