Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-05-21
NO. 100.
THE ART WONDER.
TIE STORY OF ELIZABETH sIRANI.

The sun shone joyous and warm on
learned Bologna, and the fertile hills and
plains beyond, as an aged man sat at the
door of a little house opposite the church
of San Domenico, his hands clasped upon
his lap and looked about him with an air
Of rich content.
From the church came the strains of de-
votional music. and now and then the door
opened to let the worshippers out or in.
AS often as any one came out, the old man
glanced wistfully across the street; but
none of those who came seemed to interest
him, until several patricians-such their
dress proclaimed them to became out
and stepped respectfully aside to let fe-
male figure pass. The lady responded
modestly to their salutations, and hastened
directly across the street towards the old
man, whose features, which were still
handsome and imposing, lighted up with
a radiant smile as she approached. Her
dress was not unlike that of the women OF
the bourgeoise Of the better sort, but had
something of the free and unconstrained
about it often seen in the dress of artists.
Over her simply trimmed brown dress fell
the folds Of black veil, through which
the little blond curls around her forehead,
and the heavy braids that hung down her
back, were seen. The only ornament she
wore was little filigree cross on her
breast in her hand she carried her prayer
book.
As the tall, slender girl approached the
old man and kissed his forehead, he
pressed her hand affectionately and said,
in sonorous tone -
"Well done, fglia mia. After the morn
ing mass one works with a lighter heart
and clearer head. And poor King Enzio,
for the peace of whose soul they pray, to-
day, had trials enough in this world to
merit all the happiness in the next their
prayers can secure him."
There is nothing thought of less than
of King Enzio," replied Elizabetta.
'Ay, ay,-and what was it, then, that
occupied your thought, my daughter ?"
The paintings of our great maestro.
And, as stood with my eyes fixed on one
of them, it seemed to me as though the
heavy stones that cover his ashes were
moved aside, and that he rose and looked
on me with a glorified expression. as !
saw him only once-when he was on his
death-bed And these features. father,
and this mien, will give to my Saint An
tonio-my pencil will be able to reproduce
them, | am sure it will"
"Our great maestro, the immortal Guido
Renir' seliloquised the old man, as his
beautiful daughter entered the house.
"Yes, yes, his blessing rests on you, my
child-his great heart is your inheritance,
Elisabetta.
The old man had hardly finished his SC.
liloquy when well-kept hand was laid on
his arm. Very true, good Signor Sira-
nj ~ said the newcomer. The old man
looked up and made movement as though
he would rise, but sank back in his chair
with an expression of pain. ''You will
excuse me, Signor Malvezzi," said he;
this ugly gout obliges me to remain
seated
Il know, know" said Malvezzi, who
might have been man Of fifty; "tell me,
rather, that am welcome"
"A cavalier, Malvezzi. signor, hardly
needs such an assurance. Besides, you
are patron of the arts and of artists"
".Ay, and of antiStes!r" cried the patri-
clan; "you know how l admire Signorita
Elisabetta ~
'And she is not unworthy your admi-
ration, signor," replied Sirani. "GuidO
Renis blessing rests upon her. Smiling.
he raised himself up in his last hour, and
laying his hands on her head, lie said:
You were born to be immortal, my child;
you are more than woman-you are an
angel He bequeathed to me the task Of
finishing his Saint Bruno; but was un-
worthy l was conscious OF my inability.
Years passed; taught my daughter the
divine art, and, while l remained but
bungler, she became the great masters
worthy pupil
Signor Malvezzi, the rich patrician,
twisted his beard somewhat impatiently
during the old mdestrO's account OF Guido's
death and his daughters inheritance,
which doubtless he had heard more than
once before.
"All Bologna recognizes your daugh-
ter's great genius" he replied, land her
name is often mentioned far beyond our
borders; but not less is she praised for
her many virtues and admired tor her sur
passing beauty" he added, warmly. 1.-The
wonder is, that the possessor of such
charms should remain buried between the
four walls of an artists studio. Has never
Il man, has never love, found the way to
her heart ?"
\ cloud passed over the face Of Giov-
ami Srani, and, with an almost melan-
choly mien, he shook his head and said =
"A goodly number OF most estimable
members OF our profession have been
suitors for her hand, signor, but she has
turned deaf ear to them all She loves
only her art and her old father. Since my
equity hands can no longer guide pencil,
she works with redoubled energy. One
thought alone troubles me-that shall
ere long be compelled to leave her with
out 4 protector-so young, so beautiful,
alone, and the object of so much jealousy.
for already there is more than one Of our
brother painters who are envious of her
fame"
Malvezzi's mein became very grave as
he listened, and it was with certain SOL
emnity of tone that he said -
"She need not be alone, nor unpro.
tected, Giovanni Sirani. If you will bat
bring me simple Yes from your daugh-
ter, my household shall acknowledge her