The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1874-10-15
Srlert Sturg.
ELISABETH SIRANA.

Inc sun snOne Joyous ana warm OI
learned Bologna and the fertile hilli
and plains beyond, as an aged man sal
at the door of little h ouse opposite the
church of San Dominica, his handi
clasped upon his lap, and looked abou
him with an air of rich content.
From the church came the strains o.
devotional music, and now and then the
door opened to let the worshipers out ol
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 pat
ricians-such their dress proclaimed
them to became out and stepped re-
spectfully aside to let female figure
pass. The lady responded modestly to
their salutatiOns, and hastened directly
across the street toward the old man,
whose features, which were still hand
some 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 unCon-
strained about it, often seen in the
dress of artists. Over her simply-trim-
med brown dress fell the folds of black
veil, through which the little blonde
curls around her forehead, and the
heavy braids that hung down her back,
were seen. The only ornament she
wore was little tilagree cross on her
breast; in her hand she carried a prayer
book.
As the tall, slender girl approached
the old man and kissed his forehead, he
pressed her hand affectionately and said
in a sonOrOus tone:
"Well done, fila mia. After the
morning mass one works with 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 l thought of less
than of King EnziO," replied Elisabetta.
"Ay, ay-and what was 1t, then, that
occupied your thoughts, my daughter2"
''The painting of the 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 looked on
me with a gloried expression, as l saw
him only Once-when he was his
death-bed. And these features, father
and this mien, will give to my Saint
Antonio; my pencil will be able to pro.
duce them, am sure it will"
"Our great maestro, the immortal
Guido Reni!" soliloquized the olu man
as his beautiful daughter entered his
house. eyes, yes, his blessing rests on
you, my child-his great heart is youl
inheritance, Elisabetta."
The old man had hardly finished his
solilOquy when well-kept hand was
laid on his arm. Every true, good Sig
nor Sirani" said the newcomer. The
old man looked up and made a move.
ment as though he would rise, but sanl
back in his chair with an expression o
pain. "You will excuse me, Signor Nal
vezzi," said he; "this ugly gout oblge
me to remain seated"
81 know, know" said Malvezzi, wht
might have been man of fifty; tell IN,
rather, that am welcome"
"A cavalier, a Malyezzi, Signor, hardly
needs such an assurance. Besides, vol
are patron of the arts, and of artists.
AYE, and of artistes" cried the patri
clan. "YOu know how Iadmire the Sig
norma Elisabetta!"
'And she is not unworthy your admi
ration, Signor," replied Sirani; "Guidt
Reni's blessing rests upon her. Smiling
he raised himself up in his last hour
and laying his hand on her head, hi
said: You were born to be immortal, m,
child; you are more than woman-yoi
are an angelP He bequeathed to me tn
task Of finishing his Saint Bruno; but
was unworthy. was conscious Of m
inability. Years passed.; | taught m
daughter the divine art, and, while l re
manned but bungler, she became tn
great masters worthy pupil"
Signor Malvezzi, the rich patriciaI
twisted his beard somewhat inpatient
during the old maestros account {
Guido's death and his daughters inherit
ance, which, doubtless, he had hear
many times before.
"All Bologna recognizes your daugh
tePs great genius" he replied, "and be
name is often mentioned far beyond ou
borders; but not less is she praised fo
her many virtues and admired for he
SURPRISING beauty" he added warmly
"The wonder is that the possessor
such charms should remain buried bt
tween the four walls Of an artists studio
Has never man, has never love, foun
the way to her hearth"
A cloud passed over the face OF GiC
wanna Sirani, and, with an almost me-
ancholy mein, he shook his head an
said:
"a goodIy number Of most estimabl
members Of our profession have bee
suitors for her hand, Signor, but she hs
turned deaf ear to them all. She love
only her art and her old father. Sine
my gouty hands can no longer guide
pencil, she works with redOubled enei
~. One thought alone troubles me-
that shall ere long be compelled