... I was having to wear my best dress. It was a cherry red ball gown with little frills at the bottom. I also had my gold crucifix on It was already beginning too stick to my legs at this point. I didn't know how long I would be sitting on this uncomfortable wooden stall. I decided to ignore the artist and scratch my ear any way. Who was he to tell me, the duchess, not to scratch my ear? I sat and looked at him as he dynamically applied paint to his brush and then onto the canvas. He looked completely at home working away like a little rat building a nest. Then a thought came into my head; why did my husband want this picture of me all of a sudden? Did he want me to have a child, and require a picture of me before I lose my figure? ...

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