“Jeu de Paume. C'est un petit gout, he'd said. A little taste. The hostel knew Marguerite was a gourmand; he saw the treasures she brought home each night from the boulangerie, the fromagerie, and the green market. Bread, cheese, figs: She ate every night sitting on the floor of her shared room. She was in Paris for the food, not the art, though Marguerite had always loved Renoir and this painting in particular appealed to her. She was attracted to Renoir's women, their beauty, their plump and rosy good health; this painting was alive. The umbrellas- les parapluies- gave the scene a jaunty, festive quality, almost celebratory, as people hoisted them into the air. It's charming, Marguerite said. A feast for the eyes, Porter said.”
Book:The Love Season
