{"id":"01KG8AN24Z2Y34CEHRE2F6S1YP","cid":"bafkreih34g4myahtf77sc2uz4gmxtblk3cu7o7g7zkbltwtt5mankfz7qq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3370,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":3294,"text":"IV.\r\n\r\n\"Tell me, aunt,\" the child Pierre had early said to her, long before the\r\nportrait became his--\"tell me, aunt, how this chair-portrait, as you\r\ncall it, was painted;--who painted it?--whose chair was this?--have you\r\nthe chair now?--I don't see it in your room here;--what is papa looking\r\nat so strangely?--I should like to know now, what papa was thinking of,\r\nthen. Do, now, dear aunt, tell me all about this picture, so that when\r\nit is mine, as you promise me, I shall know its whole history.\"\r\n\r\n\"Sit down, then, and be very still and attentive, my dear child,\" said\r\naunt Dorothea; while she a little averted her head, and tremulously and\r\ninaccurately sought her pocket, till little Pierre cried--\"Why, aunt,\r\nthe story of the picture is not in any little book, is it, that you are\r\ngoing to take out and read to me?\"\r\n\r\n\"My handkerchief, my child.\"\r\n\r\n\"Why, aunt, here it is, at your elbow; here, on the table; here, aunt;\r\ntake it, do; Oh, don't tell me any thing about the picture, now; I won't\r\nhear it.\"\r\n\r\n\"Be still, my darling Pierre,\" said his aunt, taking the handkerchief,\r\n\"draw the curtain a little, dearest; the light hurts my eyes. Now, go\r\ninto the closet, and bring me my dark shawl;--take your time.--There;\r\nthank you, Pierre; now sit down again, and I will begin.--The picture\r\nwas painted long ago, my child; you were not born then.\"\r\n\r\n\"Not born?\" cried little Pierre.\r\n\r\n\"Not born,\" said his aunt.\r\n\r\n\"Well, go on, aunt; but don't tell me again that once upon a time I was\r\nnot little Pierre at all, and yet my father was alive. Go on, aunt,--do,\r\ndo!\"\r\n\r\n\"Why, how nervous you are getting, my child;--Be patient; I am very old,\r\nPierre; and old people never like to be hurried.\"\r\n\r\n\"Now, my own dear Aunt Dorothea, do forgive me this once, and go on with\r\nyour story.\"\r\n\r\n\"When your poor father was quite a young man, my child, and was on one\r\nof his long autumnal visits to his friends in this city, he was rather\r\nintimate at times with a cousin of his, Ralph Winwood, who was about his\r\nown age,--a fine youth he was, too, Pierre.\"\r\n\r\n\"I never saw him, aunt; pray, where is he now?\" interrupted\r\nPierre;--\"does he live in the country, now, as mother and I do?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, my child; but a far-away, beautiful country, I hope;--he's in\r\nheaven, I trust.\"\r\n\r\n\"Dead,\" sighed little Pierre--\"go on, aunt.\"\r\n\r\n\"Now, cousin Ralph had a great love for painting, my child; and he\r\nspent many hours in a room, hung all round with pictures and portraits;\r\nand there he had his easel and brushes; and much liked to paint his\r\nfriends, and hang their faces on his walls; so that when all alone by\r\nhimself, he yet had plenty of company, who always wore their best\r\nexpressions to him, and never once ruffled him, by ever getting cross or\r\nill-natured, little Pierre. Often, he had besought your father to sit to\r\nhim; saying, that his silent circle of friends would never be complete,\r\ntill your father consented to join them. But in those days, my child,\r\nyour father was always in motion. It was hard for me to get him to stand\r\nstill, while I tied his cravat; for he never came to any one but me for\r\nthat. So he was always putting off, and putting off cousin Ralph. 'Some\r\nother time, cousin; not to-day;--to-morrow, perhaps;--or next\r\nweek;'--and so, at last cousin Ralph began to despair. But I'll catch\r\nhim yet, cried sly cousin Ralph. So now he said nothing more to your\r\nfather about the matter of painting him; but every pleasant morning kept\r\nhis easel and brushes and every thing in readiness; so as to be ready\r\nthe first moment your father should chance to drop in upon him from his\r\nlong strolls; for it was now and then your father's wont to pay flying\r\nlittle visits to cousin Ralph in his painting-room.--But, my child, you\r\nmay draw back the curtain now--it's getting very dim here, seems to me.\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKSA62DJDVDHTNXEZN0HX","peer_type":"subsection","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN24Z9F7V1YAP6M4SWVSS","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:57.503Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:11.287Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}