Vanished Smile Read Free Page B

Wedding Feast at Cana
, and Leonardo da Vinci's
la Joconde
.
    On this Tuesday morning, her place on the wall was empty. All that remained were four iron hooks and a rectangular shape several shades deeper than the surrounding area—a ghostly image marking the space that Mona Lisa had filled. Except for a brief sojourn in Brest, where she was sent for safekeeping during the Franco-Prussian War, she had hung in the Louvre since Napoleon was exiled to St. Helena.
    Béroud was disappointed to find her absent. Setting down his easel and paint box, he called to the guard:
    Brigadier Paupardin, where is Mona Lisa
?
    Being photographed, I suppose
.
    Paupardin displayed no concern. The institution of a photographic studio in the Louvre was another innovation of Director Homolle, and a project to photograph the entire collection was under way. Paintings were regularly taken off to be copied. In case of damage, loss, or future restoration, the museum would have an accurate record of the original work.
    The camera was becoming an indispensable instrument in the creation, conservation, and reproduction of art, and Director Homolle was so enthusiastic about the new medium that he allowed the photographers unlimited access. Any contract photographer or curator could saunter into a gallery and remove a painting from the wall without making a formal request, obtaining permission, or informing the guard. Becausethe paintings were simply hung on hooks—not even the most priceless masterpieces were wired or bolted—anyone could take them down and carry them off.
    Béroud responded to Paupardin with a raised eyebrow and a shrug. So many changes and so few to his liking. Still, he accepted the inevitable with good humor.
    Of course, Paupardin, when women are not with their lovers, they are apt to be with their photographers
.
    Depositing his easel and paints, Béroud left the museum. When he returned around eleven o'clock, the wall was still bare. Annoyed that his day was being wasted, he confronted the guard again.
    Brigadier Paupardin, how long does a woman need to have her picture taken? The day is wasted. Do me a favor. Find out when she will return
.
    The guard sauntered off, pleased to have an excuse to leave his post and sneak an extra Gauloise. Since he was in no hurry to accomplish his mission, probably fifteen or so minutes elapsed before he eventually reached the studio and asked when Mona Lisa would be returning to the gallery. The photographers answered his question with stares as vacant as the Salon Carré wall. Mona Lisa was not sitting for her portrait.
    Paupardin repeated his question more forcefully, as if it had been ignored the first time.
    Mona Lisa, la Joconde …?
    No. We just told you. She is not here. No one has touched her
.
    The photographers suggested that he check other rooms: The painting might have been moved to a different gallery. Paupardin brushed them off. The Louvre collection was not a deck of cards, constantly being shuffled, and Mona Lisa was its prized possession. In all his years of employment, she had occupied the same wall space.
    His eyes flicked across the studio quickly, then again, slowlyscanning the room. His immediate reaction was confusion. Paintings don't step down off museum walls and walk away. Mona Lisa had been hanging in her usual place when he left on Sunday. On Monday, the museum was closed, and yet she was gone—lost or stolen or strayed. How do you mislay Mona Lisa, and worse, how do you explain it? The lethargy that was Paupardin's habitual demeanor lifted. Fear, like a swallow of vinegar, choked him. Leonardo da Vinci's most famous work, worth many more francs than Paupardin could earn if he had several lives, was missing on his watch.
    He felt a lightness in his head. The mix of fear and confusion produces incoherence even in the sharpest minds, and Paupardin's mind was rusty at best. If he had lived a century or so earlier, he would not have been enshrined in the pantheon of