Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1842-09-16

Jean himself was restless and uneasy, deem
ing every moment as lost which kept him
away from his studies. How differently had
my ardent Imagination pictured this home
ward visit.
jean is very ill., said Genevicvo timidly, |
the day before our departure.
q think so indeed, child but fear not, he
shall have the best advice France can pro-
cure
1T is rest that he wants. said the girl We
hcmcnly, she is destroying himself day by
day He will die, and then what is to be-
come of his old father and me 2 and she hid
| her face in her hands and sobbed convulsivo
ly.
Nov heaven forbid !! exclaimed, but
her words haunted me-'hc will die y
| To avert this fearful doom resolved to
proceed at once to Rome, taking Jean with
me, as well for change of climate as TO inn
prove and foster his taste for the beautiful
But this excursion only served to increa So
his enthusiasm, and not contentcd with imi-
ta,ing, he burned to surpass every thing he
saw.
Years passed away, the sculptor with
whom had placed him could teach him no
more, and. pale and attenuated, Jean Mala-
motif returned TO breathe once more the pure
air of his native village. His father had
grown old and feeble, and though took
care he should want for nothing that money
could procure, still the dutiful attentions of
his son would have done more than all my
bounty to soothe his passage to the tomb
! Might after night the aged Italian sat alone
in his cherries cottage when Jean pursued
his solitary calling in an adjoining dwelling;
and yet there were times when his heart
smoto him for his neglect, and knceling at
his fathers feet he wond humbly en,reat his
forgiveness.
Il am working for us BOTH he would say:
: am working TO make the name of Maan-
oti great, not only in Avignon, but over all
+ France and the world Years ago promis-
ed that it should be so.'
Il wonld rather sec You happy, my son.
Happy, am | not so now! Oh, most
5 happy = and it was beautiful to mark the
flush upon his pale cheeks and the fire of
his brilliant eyes.
, Even GcnevIcve sought in vain TO lure
f him from his unccasng abors, and again APP
I piled to me but had lost all power over
my hayward pupil, and the poor girl, almost
S hcart-brokcn, returned to the rude studio OF
the sculptor, aud silent and motionlcss, sat at
2 his feet and watched the gradual work OF
creation and decay going on together, as the
c statue grew in beauty beneath the touch OF
his powerful genius.
= 1t was glorious evening as sat alone
with the aged Malanotti, my anxiety for Jean
PERMITTING me not to quit AviCnon. For a
= long time we had both remained silent, prob
o ably thinking ofthe same object al length
the old man pointed iecby TO a group OF
= peasants who had paused beneath the win
= dow.
d You see that youth 2 exclaimed he,
Y pointing to n rudy and Notwithstanding lad,
d who appeared TO be dividing an exquisite
n boquct of choice flowers among three dark
j eyed girls, perhaps his sisters, or one might
= have been dcarer still, for observed that he
: carefully singled out the best for her. l,
c is Peter Garonne--he is gardcncr!'
Thorc was a keen rcproach conveyed IN
! these few words, and dared not reply tc
g them.
II Mnlanott leant back in his chair and COW
>. cred up his eyes with his long, thin fingers
d but the clad laughter of the young peasant:
o fell moclingly on my ears, and was GLAD
II when they moved away. Presently Jeay
st entered the room; his very step had grow
10 feeble.
i 1t will soon be finished y exclaimed Il,
:, with flashing eyes: even Genevievc thinks
a it will be Grand. But does my father sleep!
II think not, jean
The young man knclt down gently beside
e his chair and took one Of those pale withcr
- cd hands in his.
How cold y said he, almost as cold an,
IS white as my beautiful statue. Speak TO me
father y
Ie But the old man never spoke arain-h
was dead; and thanked heaven that
IN happened as it did, before worse things cam
s. TO pass.
1t was hoped, now that the being for whor
10 he had protested to toll was no more, tina
ne Jean would cease his excrtions for a time
bu, it was not so. He had bu, deceive
n himself and others in giving any reason 70
a, his devotion to his profession, but an incns
2 love of it which nothing could control.
Id Even Gcncvcve, patient and hrcathleS
as as she used to sit and watch him, was no lon
4. ger admitted, lest her presence might dis
tract his attention; but continued to clcC
lc the poor girl with hopes tina, the completio
of lis work would put an end at once to a
H. this.
another day exclaimed Jean TO me
he length, 'ono more day, and the name {
O. Mllanotti will be immortal !!
ri pressed his burning hand and tried I
" congratulate him, but my tongue Glove
mt the roof Of my mouth.
". However this end said he gratefully,
,o. will be al your work y
mi And he needed not how | shuddered, an
ed shruhk away from his acl.nOwioGg cmonts.
That evening | concealed myself in Ma
b, auott's studio, in order to be witness to =
:. =, triumphs of my Protcge on the complou
-. his great work. 1t was that which you a
r ~, this morning in my gallery, and which f,
III grandeur Of expression has never perllal
~" been surpassed. 1t was finished, and Il
~ young artist stood before it with dlated eyt
W and bloodless lips.
H. IT, Speak said he, stretching out his class
III ed hands towards the beautiful but sensele
being of his own creation speak, | say f
no am sure you can !