Portrait of a Girl by Dörthe Binkert

friends with Edward back then, probably because Edward had a German mother and spoke German. James’s real name was Jakob Scheffner, he was from Berlin, and owed the opportunity for his good British education to a distant uncle, Albert Danby. His parents didn’t have much money, and this much older relative of his mother’s who lived in England and was well off kindly took on the cost for the boy’s education. And so Jakob became James, and James eventually also adopted the name Danby, even though he inherited nothing else from his uncle.
    Thus, for a moment, thinking of Segantini’s pictures, James again felt the loneliness he had felt when the other boys went home on weekends. When the halls and bedrooms of the boarding school emptied out, and the polished stairs no longer clattered with the lively sound of boys’ hurrying feet. Sometimes Edward was allowed to take James home with him, which solidified their friendship. But James Danby did not like being reminded of those days, which perhaps contributed to the feeling of unease that overcame him whenever he thought of Segantini and his pictures.
    Happily, there were other distractions at hand. The first vacation and spa guests were gradually beginning to arrive, and James Danby had already seen several pretty women among them. Unlike his friend, he would try to spend this last week there as a hunter. He figured the tan he’d gotten from playing tennis was becoming, and he resolved to court the prettiest woman he could find at the St. Moritz mineral springs while Edward went in pursuit of spring flora.
    He smiled at the thought, and selected an elegant suit instead of knickerbockers and tweed to stir up some interest on his day’s adventures.

    “Madam?” James got up politely from the park bench and indicated his seat. “Such a beautiful day! You looked as if you might like to sit down for a momen t . . . May I offer you my seat on this bench?”
    If he was at all concerned about embarrassing the lady, he was certainly in error. After turning around with a sort of bored disgruntlement, her expression sprang to life, and she reacted to his question as if she’d been waiting for exactly this kind of exchange.
    “Is that all you have to offer? A seat on a bench that’s available to anyone?” she asked with a scornful smile even as she sat down and pulled back the veil on her hat.
    James gazed into her willful blue eyes with delight. But she looked away, waving to a man in a dark suit, probably her husband, who was deep in conversation with another man.
    “I’ll follow you right away, Robert darling, just go on ahead,” she said.
    Then she turned back to James with a radiant smile, “Well, kind sir, what else do you have to offer me?”
    James Danby didn’t easily lose his composure, but she was a real provocation.
    “Well, I could invite you for an ice cream at some time of your choice,” he said, stroking his smooth-shaven chin.
    “Oh no,” she said, laughing. “It’s still too cold for that. What else?”
    He watched spellbound as she adjusted her vine-embroidered gloves, slowly pushing with the fingers of one hand between the fingers of the other. She spoke English with an American accent, and he wondered whether she had ever lowered her eyes in modesty.
    When he didn’t answer her right away, she continued in a conciliatory tone, “Perhaps you’ll have a better idea tomorrow. I have to go now; my husband is waiting for me.” She lowered the small veil on her hat over her blue eyes and straightened the skirt of her white dress. Just as her husband turned and looked back at her to ask, “Kate, are you coming?” she gave a gesture that clearly indicated that she’d be at his side in a moment.
    She didn’t say good-bye to James, but then, she hadn’t suggested that he speak to her in the first place.

    Segantini laid the letter aside in annoyance; he was unable to make it out. A person named James Danby had written something to him that