The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1878-12-27


and inexperienced artist then you know /
and didn't wear such an immense beard /
and wbslzers are now coquetting with |
your dear golden curls, And what is more,
/ was not so extravagantly wealthy in those /
days as you suppose me to oe, now that / /
am your Uncle Coventry and am able TO |
daily extract few pennies from my pOclz- !
ct, to be instantly converted by you in to !
tsrts at the nearest bakers shop. You
will believe, then, that | was rather we'll |
pleased than otherwise wien a beautiful
lady, all dressed with silks and satins and
blazing with jewels, rustled into my hum
BILE studio, one fine September morning.
Was she a fairy princess? Oh, no. not
quite. But she did there and then inquire
whether l would be willing 20 paint a por
trait OF her four yeaT-old' d'daughter, Blanca,
which she intended as Christmas present
for the little dear's grandmother. should
have informed you that Blanca was present
also, and had quickly Interested berself
among my brightest pictures. What sort
of little girl was she =? Well, in due gal
iautry and with allowances for the differ
ence of climate, | must not say that she
Was prettier than you or that her hair was
a trifle more shining. / took her offer i'm
mediately, and 1t was arranged that Ri
anca should visit my studio three or four
times week, in company with her mother
or nurse or uncle, and sit still as church
/
matter of dreaHfnl vexation to her, as it
would be to you also, Miss Amy. Blanca
and myself became firm friends, although
she would pOut and pretend to be awfully
!, mad with me when ! would iuSis. upon her
keeping a sober face for second together,
or stop tormenting the whskeTs and soul
of an ancient cat who was the partner of
| my Joys and sorrovs. She was born in
! Venice, where most of the golden haired,
blue eyed children of Italy come from.
! Her mother owned a whole village in the
province of Venice, and her father, who
he'd been great man al Rome, was long
Since dead.
! One day my lovely little model, ''niy 1B-
anca," as [ used to call her-(don't pull
my beard so haId; | verify believe you are
| jealous. little Amy)-one day Biauca came
20 my studio with her uncle, Count Luigi,
| whom l then beneld for the'fsst time. He
was the brotherSin- law Of the contessa. =
/ Was lie much like me? ! hope not. You
shouldn't like him for an uncle at all; and
/ am certain Blanca did not. He was tall
and dark and mysterious, and his yellow
| face was decorated by pair of black, fiery
! eyes, that were entirety too near to be hon
est; likewise by hooked Ii0Se, and
! coal black mustache, the ends of which
were continually finding their way between
/ his beautiful white teeth. Uncle Luigi
seemed to me vastly Ike one of the ogres,
stealing, pretty pIzids from their castle
bOudoirs of whom you have read a good
0eUl in yotr books. ] did not admire this
gentleman from the first; and our meeting
was pretty much the same as the distant
acquaintance of two icebergs. I ara rot
quite Sure that Banca's mother liked him;
but she appeafeJ to De too weak aud easily
managed to express her want of affection
for him.
My picture progressed farhotsfy, and
(paint a picture of you? Certainly, my
love. We will have 1t ready for your next
birthday }-auS when the first week of De-
cember closed l had delivered my picture
to the ConteSsa di Casabianca, receiving in
exchange a.eheck on a Roman bank for a
Tlost agreeable Stita of money. The pOr
trait was to be taken to Venice, and duly
presented to the grandmother on Christ
mas day. 1t represented Blanca smiling,
an0 dressed in low necked silk gown,
y-irh 4 necklace of peai Is round her throat.
From the necklace hung this same old Ro
man coin, which her papa had picked up
under the walls of Rome. Some Roman,
maybe Julius Ctesar, had dropped 1t there
two thousand years ago.
The contessa had promised to pay me a
farew ell visit before departing for the north
of Italy. The appointed day bad arrived
and had gone to- the extravEtance of don
ming an entirely new suit of Clothes to re-
ceive and entertain my guests. | waited
and fidgeted BIT visitors. No kind
tender contessa :: no angelic Biarco; III
perfidious lhdking uuole appeared. Wher
, the night set In, ] felt angry and disgust
ed, little Amy, because ! tn ought my Ven
'afian acquaintauces had left Rome, forget
full of me. The following morning | wen
20 the dwelling of the contessa to Discover
yshstever could concerning her departure
;Jhdgo oT my surprise on learning that the
lady had not yet departed. ] was showI
into the drawing room by a Servant Oh
whose face / detected the signs df some
tToeble:; aud | waited for the rustic of tb,
'c6htessa's dress in tire doorway. But th
vas not to be. in her place came Blanca
nurse, pale Rftd with eyes 6at newly drieC
from weeping. Sinking Sh.6 y chair sht
almost s0bbed 20 me the following words
''Oh SignOr Pembroke, the cOnteSsa i
in agony. We we're going to see yeti yes
terday, when the cottessa asked for Blanca
She had been playing on the steps but
.fiinute before, and then it was inTpossibl
to fiud her. Tie house, the garden, thu
streets, eIl have been searched but in vain
We cs!I;iot fud my little Blanca. Som,
one has stolen her away. And my mis-
tress she will surely die J!
Nothing beyond this could | discove
from any one Blanca had disappeared a
completely and hopeleSsly as though th
earth had opened and swallowed her.
was not proper Tor me Jo inJTuOe my pres
'efice upon the great grief of the contessa'
household | sadly withdrew, full of anx
iety for the street child, whom had learn
: Ell to love.
No effort was spSred by the contessa AM
the Roman police, aud apparently by Coun
:, Luigi to recover The lost Blanca. But tn
n attempts we're utterly useless; and TIN
/, mother, sick st heart, returned to her home
;. taking with her my picture, which crue
e fate seemed to have transformed from
Christmas present to a sacred memento o
( an angel forever flown.
y Now d@n~ Ihterrupt me. / have nc
Il finished vet. | am going to relate rathe
+ odd inc:6eht that happened before the tim
.e of Biauca' sdisappeararce. fate one nigh
'e / was crossing the bridge of SAINT Angelo
e which spans the i'iber. | was thinkin
N over the finishing touches to my child pi'
u ture, when | suddenly bsoane aware of
le boat passing under me. Prompted by CT
" riosity, leaned over the battlements
Mt the bridge and listened. A man wasstan'