A NATURIST
A tall girl with a chiseled Greek goddess-like figure, with a mop of unruly curly hair, walked into the room. She was a naturist, and an absolutely dazzling naturist. A young girl, slightly reddish, with white pearl skin, "Callipiga," with a high waist, with thin wrists and ankles, with beautifully shaped hands, with breasts like on antique marbles. In addition, she resembled the Hermitage marble Diana Goudon, whose model was Madame Dubarry, the mistress of Louis XV.
Boucher Prudon or Ingres would draw such nudity, but the artist Alexander was timid in front of nature. It was necessary to lime a lot of paper and coal in order to achieve at least small results in order to live up to the minute (and whether it will come this minute), when an obedient hand learns to transfer eye impressions to a sheet of paper.
The artists who painted the young beauty looked at her admiringly. All the men looked at her admiringly and longingly as she walked down the street shaking her hips.
Entering the studio, the naturist, this charming sorceress, without shyness appeared from behind the screens naked, without pretense and embarrassment, took a given pose and froze in state of immobility, beautiful, proud and indifferent to the views of artists.
It seemed that Alexander was more worried than she was. For him, the amazing privilege that the artist's profession gave him has not yet become commonplace: in broad daylight, undress an unfamiliar woman and admire her nudity, ask her poses, contemplate her for hours from all sides to feel like an ellin of the pericles of the century.
He painted her all week, daily. Waking up in the morning, he immediately recalled the bright room and the shining nudity of the model and rejoiced that even today it was a sunny day for his happiness, as spring sometimes gives us, and now he will go to the workshop and draw this naked beauty and, it seems, it turned out quite well.