midnight
But Bébée had gone away -- unheeding -- dreaming of Juliet and of Jeanne d'Arc , of whom he had told her tales . He made sketches of her sometimes , but seldom pleased himself . It was not so easy as he had imagined that it would prove to portray this little flower-like face , with the clear eyes and the child 's open brow . He who had painted Phryne so long and faithfully had got a taint on his brush -- he could not paint this pure , bright , rosy dawn -- he who had always painted the glare of midnight gas on rouge or rags . Yet he felt that if he could transfer to canvas the light that was on Bébée 's face he would get what Scheffer had missed . For a time it eluded him . You shall paint a gold and glistening brocade , or a fan of peacock 's feathers , to perfection , and yet , perhaps , the dewy whiteness of the humble little field daisy shall baffle and escape you .