The Painted Face: Sleeping Beauty’s Forgotten Curse

In the 14th century, artists at the court of King Philip IV were commissioned to paint a portrait of his daughter, Aurora. The painting was said to “glow in the dark,” her skin so lifelike that onlookers swore she was breathing.

Months after its unveiling, the princess vanished.

The court painter confessed under torture: he had used “a pigment born of dreams,” a formula derived from a rare mineral that absorbed human essence. “She sleeps now,” he said, “in the paint.”

The portrait was sealed in the royal vaults. But when the Louvre burned in 1871, witnesses reported seeing a woman walking through the smoke — her skin pale, her gown streaked with oil and soot.

Her face was featureless, like a canvas wiped clean.

When the ashes cooled, only one artifact survived unscathed: a wooden frame containing nothing but blank linen. It still hangs today, hidden in the museum’s archives, labeled simply:

La Dormeuse.