Aren't you charming, madame? Your red velvet gown so fashionable, so elegant. And what a pretty picture you make, the rich crimson of your gown in the midst of all that lush variation of green. But how imprudent you are, as well. You carry your parasol, but where is your hat, madame? And your gloves? How far have you ventured from home, then, as you stop to pause upon this forest path? You really ought to know by now that Rousseau's very odd paintings are full of wild and improbable beasts. A lion or bear, a great ape or tiger might very well cross your path at any moment. Perhaps your gesture - the raised hand, the backward glance - signal that you begin, all at once, to recognize your folly, madame, to vividly imagine the sort of calamity that would mark a most unpleasant termination to your charming little promenade amongst the trees...?
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