Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-05-22
NO. 12l.
THE ART WONDER.
THE STORY OF ELIZABETH sIRANI.

| Neither of the two men, in their amaze
ment. made any immediate reply. Dur
ing the momentary silende, monetary
silence, a handsome young man burst in
to the studio, with bunch of yiolets in
his hand.
"Signorita Elisabetia." he cried, with
out noticing her father and their visitor
"look here here is a greeting from smil-
ing Spring, who will not let you remain
forever within these four walls, for here
you will never learn the meaning of the
| little word love- Come out under the
broad heavens. in the bright MONDAY sun
there, and there only, you will under
stand what my eyes say, in vain to you
daily"
Elisabetta took the bunch of violets. in
hailed their perfume for moment, and
then laid them on the easement Of the
open window, as she pointed to picture
just begun, and said, smiling
"My Saint Antonio will not allow it.
and there yonder is Cupid, who awaits
the finishing touches. You must excuse
me, to-day, Marco"
"How can you paint Cupid-you who
know nothing of his arts p said the young
-
the threshold he overlook Signor MalvezZi
who said to him =
$50 you too, love the heartless Elisa
BETA? How can you be such fool come
with me. l know, or, if do not, can
devise, some means to cure you of your
infatuation See there" he continued,
pointing to the window of the studio,
before which, on the ground, lay Marcos
boquet; ''your flowers were accepted only
to be thrown away. Her disdainful lady
ship cares as little, it seems, for violets
as she does for emeralds. Let US seek to
console each other, Or-what would, per-
haps, be better-let US seek to be mutually
avenged. She must learn that q Malvezzi
| is not to be rejected like school-boy.
Signorita Elisabetta, you will perhaps,
pay dearly for the honor Of once having
had it in your power to become Signora
Malvezzi ~ he added, but, as he looked
for his companion. whom he supposed to
bo an attentive listener, he found himself
alone.
Marco Sessi had turned back, and, creep
ing along the cornwall, had picked up his
disprised violets.
They have been hallowed by her touch"
he whispered. and, concealing it in his
bosom, he made his way to the street un-
observed.
The grand dining-room of the Palazzo
Tassoni was filled with joyous assem-
blage. Shouts of almost boisterous laugh
ter, the clinking of glasses, toasts and
songs, were heard on every hand. Signor
Simone Tassoni gave banquet, and his
guests were the merry disciples Of Saint
Lucas, and musicians. No wonder. there
fore, that there was more mirth and hilar-
ity here than at the stiff banquets of the
exclusive patricians. The few Of this
proud caste who were present were con-
noisseurs and patrons of the arts.
Oddly enough it looked to see, in the
middle of the long, richly-fnrnished table,
single female figure-that of Elisabetta
Sirani. She appeared like white dove,
among the darker heads of the other sex
that surrounded her, as she looked out,
almost timidly. from under the crown of
white roses which her two neighbors. the
poet Bianchni and the composer Mauritio
Cazzati, had placed upon her blond head.
and yet she was the queen of the fete, it
having been given By Tassoni in her
honor.
Amid universal plaudits, her last work,
"Saint Antonio in Padua. :" had, that morn
ing, been placed in the family chapel of
the Tassoni. and all Bologna resonnded
once more with her praise.
One toast after another was drunk to
her by her colleagues and admirers; the
poet Picinardi recited sonnet which he
had written in her praise, and the art
critic Malvasia gave her on this evening
the appellation by which she is still re-
membered, 1.-The Art-wonder,"
Elisabetta's cheeks glowed, as all these
honors, one after, were conferred OH her.
She left her seat only once; then. radiant
with delight, a golden goblet in her hand.
she approached her father, who sat at the
end of the table ON the right of the host,
and said to him, in tone full of signifi-
cance -
Evrira the liberty of art. Is it not
beautiful, father?"
And the old man embraced his daughter
with fearful emotion.
There were only two of all those present
who did not seem to share the spirit that
animated the joyous assemblage. The
face of Signor Beppo MalvezZi wore =
dark, hostile expression, while Marco
Sessi sat absorbed in apparently Melan-
choly reflections.
So beautiful as to-day, with her flushed
cheeks that mirrored her inward Joy, Els
abetta had never appeared to him, and
the thought of the hopelessness Of his love
had never before driven him SO near the
verge of despair. At each word that NAL
vezzi, prompted by his malice, whispered
in his ear, he bit his lip harder, as though
by physical pain he would lessen his men
tai suffering.
1--WE ALL" said the painter Matteo Bor-
bOni in concluding a little speech prepa-
ratory to toast-''we all call ourselves,
with pride, the pupils and followers Of the
immortal Guido; the one possesses this,
the other that quality, ofthe great master.
but none of us, save Elisabetta, possesses
them all she alone is his worthy success
sor-she is our mistress, and the greatest
of us all. To her, comrades, let us empty
our cups!"
And all their cups were instantly raised
arms-length, except Malvezzi's.
ssIJo1I ~ ho cr;oI ssollNx, ,~>o ...~..I