Speed dating at Cythera

I wrote this fictional short story based on the Rococo painting. Would love to be engaged in a community that writes short stories based on art. Grateful for your time.

Jean-Antoine lived a nomadic painter’s life in the early 1700s. He was French by birth but roamed the European continent to gather inspirations for his Rococo-style paintings. He was in a small town, Cythera, which was on the Greek island of Peloponnese. It was difficult to get to and one needed to hire special boats from the Greek mainland to get there. On this remote outpost, he used to watch from a distance, the locals go and sun-bathe on the beach. He would paint the tanned skins of Greeks interacting with each other, whom he regarded as more beautiful than the French. The green sea in the middle-ground and jutting snow-clad peaks in the background made for an interesting landscape. He wanted to depict the carefree spirit of the locals in the most frivolous of styles that did not pay heed to form or rules that governed the classical Baroque method. The movement of people in a natural setting had become his forte and people had started recognizing Jean-Antoine’s work with its characteristic narrative of weaving several intertwining stories on his canvas.
On one such sunny day, while he was observing the beach from a grassy knoll, he noticed a party of about 20 Parisians emerge from a large boat. He could make out that they were from his homeland because the 10 men and 10 women were dressed in formals that were commonly worn in Paris. Peach, purple and gold-colored gowns with large straw hats and rouge make-up made the ladies look so pompous he thought. The men were also wearing pink and red costumes with blue velvety collars. They were attired in deep red long gray boots and had olive green woollen caps on in the peak of summer.
“My God! These people sure have come prepared for snowfall in Cythera.” Jean-Antoine muttered to himself. He was wearing a vest and trunks and was holding paintbrushes in both his hands. He adjusted his easel and started preparing his canvas for what promised to be an interesting story for him to capture on his canvas. The twenty Parisians gathered together for a minute and then ten pairs broke off in different directions – some went and sat in the shade of nearby trees. Others went towards the beach. And some came towards the grassy knoll and Jean-Antoine surreptitiously noticed a pair coming towards him. He was curious to know what was going on but he wanted to remain hidden so that he could paint them in their natural state without their knowledge. He crept down on the side of the knoll and tried to hide his face from the approaching couple. He could now hear them speak.
“I like to knit, to cook and to travel,” said the aristocratic lady in gold. The gentleman grinned and said, “My hobbies are shooting, fishing and eating what I shoot and fish!” The lady let out a squeal of laughter. “I don’t need to cook for you then!”
“We will have plenty of maids to do that, Madame Natalie. All you have to do is to say yes.” With that, the gentleman got down on one knee and kissed the gloved hand of Madame Natalie. “Well, I don’t want to commit right away Monsieur Paul. I would like to meet with the others too. As you know, you are not the brightest of them all.” “Of course Madame.”
And just like that, Sir Paul left for a lady waiting under a tree and the man who had been with her came towards Madame Natalie.
This man took out a rose from his jacket’s pocket and gave it to Madame Natalie. “How sweet of you Monsieur Francois. Are you carrying eight more?” “Yes, Madame,” replied Francois. “Well, you can move to the next one. I don’t like the shape of your face.” Thus, began a procession of gentlemen who came one by one to woo Madam Natalie but her sharp tongue and acerbic manner led to them going to another aristocratic lady. Finally, the tenth gentleman arrived. He had already been rejected in the first round by nine other ladies. He was feeling a bit low. “Madame Natalie, what would you like to know about me?” “I want to know what do you have that can make you stand out.” “Well, I am the heir to the Duke of Biarritz. I will stand out because I am aristocracy. Also, I can ride a horse on most days.” Madame Natalie bent back and gave out the shrillest laughter that Jean-Antoine had ever heard from any lady. “You call that standing out,” she replied laced with sarcasm. “Mr. Biarritz, you better find a horse to marry you, on a good day. I am going to go explore this no fashion sense-town now.”
She came down the grassy knoll and saw Jean-Antoine putting final touches to his painting that depicted the speed-dating scene on Cythera. He was just adding shadows to the golden robe of Madame Natalie. Her gestures spoke a thousand words but conveyed just one idea: rejection. Other couples seemed happier. Madame Natalie was stunned at the delicate craftsmanship and could just say, “This has potential.” “Are you married Monsieur?” “No Madame. I am an artist and am married to my work. I have no plans to get married to a lady in the near future.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you for your plans.” She walked off in haste towards the beach and left without a match.
Two days later, a group of four Parisians came to the grassy knoll, abducted Jean-Antoine and shipped him off straight to Madame Natalie’s Rococo-style mansion.