Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1857-1865, 1860-02-17
THE PAINTERS DAUGHTER
A TRUE LEGEND.

The golden sun of Italy slowly sank
upon the magnificent bay of Naples, flood
ing the waters with yellow light, and fill
ing the air with that dreamy haze which
the painter SO vainly essays to transfer to
his canvas, but which forevermore is pic
tured upon the memory Of all who have
once beheld it, The square sails of feluc-
cas-, creeping lazily towards the shadows
of the land, glittered like silver winged
birds, and the white walls of villas lining
the shores, the tall spires Of churches, and
even the rude roofs of fishers huts hid
! ing in the lagunes, were bathed with pur-
pie, more glorious than that of kingly
vestments. 1t was an eve of bewitching
loveiness, and thus thought the youth
and maiden who watched the setting sun,
and from the cleaning web of their love
wove hopes as bright as tho scene around
them.
Beautiful as a Madonna was the fair
girl, whose dark, humid eyes, now follow
ed the wake of sunlight on the water, and
anon fell with loving glance upon the
bronzed face of him who stood beside her,
his hand clasping her own, and his gaze
forgetting the bright heavens, while it
! fingered proudly upon his beloved, His
voice was low; and the earnestness of its
tone brought deeper fiushes to the maidcn's
cheek-"Annetti, soul of my heart in
this hour could die happy -
"And leave me, Lorenzo"
"Never-never p cried the youth, bend
ing suddenly and covering the white hand
which he clasped with hurried Kisses
"But Oh Annetti, | am too happy.
dare not think of the morrow, lest it awake
me from blissful dream"
/ "0ur love is not dream, Lorenzo
Look, dearest, the sun sinks, but it will
rise again, and many blessed day of love
does it promise to our hearts I"
"Annetti, forgive me If Zingaro loves
thee as an angel, worships thee as a spirit
of good to guide his path-but will thy
father-will the Flore listen to the Gipsy s
suit will
MY father loves me, Lorenzo-he will
not deny our prayers"
81 fear me. What am l but the child
of his bounty-his dependant, his servant,
who hath no more value in his eyes than
the dull coors ere they glow upon his
canvas. The proud Colantine would spurn
me from his threshold did he dream that
l had dared to"
"By San Geronimo! thou speakest
rightly! Slave dog of gipsey Is it
thus my kindness is repaid? William be-
gone and thou-thou-thou, Annetti,
away, ere curse thy shameless"
"Father, dear father !" murmured the
maiden, as the old man tore her violently
from her lovers side and placed himself
between them. "Father have mercy /
love him
The form of Colantine del Fiore shook
with swelling passion, as his daughter
sank upon the earth, and strove to clasp
his knees. He thrust his clenched hand
into the face of the Gipsy. who, with head
bowed upon his breast, had not yet stirred,
nor spoken. "Thou, he muttered savage
ly-"thou, with thy cursed Egyptian
charms, has worked upon my child -
Thou, Observation-Disclosures, whom
nursed and warmed at my hearth-thou
wouldst turn and sting me T.
80, my father Lorenzo is innocent !
he is good, Father, l love him as my
/ life ~
30, Saucta Maria has it come to this ?
Away, Gipsy quit my sight, ere plunge
my dagger in thy BOSOM
And the old man, as he spoke, clutched
ferccly at his dOublet, as if to grasp his
stiletto.
III Zingaro tore open his own garment,
and lifting his head proudly, met the mas
ter's look.
"Here is my bosom" he cried, "Strike
my crime is that | love one whom the
angels love Strike, aud my last word
shall be 'Aunetti 7"
Del Fiore paused, stayed by the fercer
passion that flashed from the Gipsy's eyes.
At that moment, too, Annetti raised her
glance to her fathers stern features, and
then fixed them lovingly upon Lorenzo S
noble form. For, indeed, as he stood
thore confronting the proud painter, Col
antine, he might have served as a model
for the most glorious image of the artists S
dreams Perhaps Del Fiore might have
felt, as he looked upon Zingaro, that, in
deed, It needed no Egyptian charm to win
woman's love for such man. His voice
was less angry, and his eye softer, when
he spoke again
Lorenzo, leave Us Annetti can never