A Seated Peasant Woman

A Seated Peasant Woman

Camille Pissarro

French, 1830-1903

   

I had been observing her for a week. But I did not talk to her.

I came to the countryside a week ago in order to do sketches of the field. There were many peasants working in the fields, man and woman, elder and child. Despite of the intense sunshine and scorching temperature, they worked hard to wrest a living from the soil. Sometimes I would like to include them in my pictures. When the sunshine was really blazing, they would stop and rest under the shade of trees. Men often fanned themselves, looked out on their own fields, and planned the life of the whole family. Women loved to get together and gossip.

But the woman with the red plaid headscarf never joined them. Her delicate headscarf stood out from other coarse gray turbans. And her skin, not like other peasant woman, was fair and rosy. When others were chatting, she sat quietly on the mound, bending her body. She locked her eyebrows and folded her hands all the time as if something bothered her a lot.

I drew a portrait of her without disturbing her. It was my best work this year. And I thought the painting could be sold at a good price.

The day before I returned to Paris, I went to the fair, seeking for some interesting gadgets. When I was picking over the old potteries at a dark-skinned woman’s stall, the woman’s headscarf caught my eyes. It was the same fantastic headscarf I saw in the field a few days ago.

“What a beautiful headscarf!” A woman with tangled hair said to the dark-skinned woman.

“Of course it is, I bought it from Gloria. The headscarf came from Paris.” The dark-skinned woman was pleased by the flattery.

“She is selling her things again. Poor Gloria.”

“She had to. Her little baby caught a cold last week. I bought the headscarf from her so that she had the money to buy him the medicine.” The dark-skinned woman said as if she offered a huge help to Gloria.

“What a poor girl. She must regret abandoning luxurious life in Paris, splitting from the rich family and marrying Tom who was only a chef in her family’s holiday home.”

The dark-skinned woman touched the red plaid headscarf gently.

“Her life could have been better if Tom did not die of the malaria. But now, she has to take care of her son and Tom’s disabled mother all by herself. The situation couldn’t be worse.”

“Who knows? Leaving the baby and the old woman aside, asking for her father’s forgiveness is the best choice for her.”

“But isn't she silly? Working in the field in the daytime, taking care of the child at night. She chooses the tough life.”

It was easy for me to figure out the whole story. A girl from the upper class fell in love with a boy at the bottom. Despite the pressure from the family, they got married. These kind of stories were everywhere in the novels. Some have happy endings and some not.

A few days after I went back to Paris, my agent called me.

“Hey, Jack. Good news. A banker bought your painting today at a very high price.”

“Wow, which one?”

“A seated peasant woman. The woman with the red headscarf. The banker bought it at the first sight. Congratulations!”

“Did he say why he liked it?”

“I remember he said it reminded him of his daughter. ”