Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1879-11-22
THE PORTRAIT.
A Pretty Little Rustic Love Story,
From the French of Henry Gre

u. y,
the drops OF water were stillrolling from leaf to
leaf with the light sound OF a nearly exhausted
fountain tricsling into its half-filled basin, and
in the distance the dark path opened out into a
wet glade OF deep green OF exquisite SoftneSs.
The trunks OF the trees were very black, their
branches blacker still and the massive boughs
OF the chestnut trees above the young painters
head seemed like the high arches of q cathedral
at the hour when ali Is dark in the church and
when tina colored windows cast into the gloom
CLEANS of light so intense and so mysterious
that you would think them Lit up by fire of
live Goals from " jhout.
Maurice loved this hour at the decline of day,
when alter the ram the sun has not Shone out
and when gray tint is cast over everything,
blending outlines, softening angles and invest
Ing every shape with smooth and exquisite
roundnesS- lie walked slowly. discovering
every moment in the well-kaoWn forest some
beauty till then unknown, and he was thrilled
to the very depths of his being by that tender
admiration for nature which is one OF the cha
racteristics of genius.
Havin reach 4 The gla1a, he looked around
him. The grass green and brilliant; the
delicate leaves III the shrubs shining beneath
the water which had washed them, formed
fine, lace like network against the dark back
ground Oh the great forest beyond He stopped
In order to SEE better, to observe better and to
take In better the impression OF the wet forest
more 1mpr SSive and more human, so to speak
in its great shadows than beneath the sunshine
in all the splendor of the day.
The pretty and graceful figure of young girl
stoodout gain 81 ne foil g Of tn birch trees.
she advanced with supple movement, without
perceiViIg Maurice who. us mmoyable as the
lIullh vi ii CHESTNUT Tree, was watching her.
Nhen TWO steps from him the young girl per-
ceiVed him She started and let fall a few tWigS
from the fagot OF wood that she was carrying
on her head.
You frightened me- said She smiling; and
her large black eyes snone out merrily beneath
the tangle of her blonde hair.
He looked at her without answering. A COM
llele harmony, which no words can render,
lelgned between the slender figure, the laugh
ing face, the lace-like foliage OF the glade and
the UNITS OF the landscape.
stand still" said the yOunp man. am o.
ing 10 take your portrait"
She wished 10 push back her hair which had
gesture.
.!Remain as you are"
He seated himself on stone and sketched
rapidly the outline and features OF his young
MODEL. She was peasant but delicate and re-
lined as the young girls OF the peaSantry often
are before th.ir complete and often tardy de-
VelOpment. The eyes were already those OF a
woman, the smile was still That OF child.
4" How old are your asked the painter still
working.
II Shall soon be sixteen"
Already! saw you three years ago little
bit OF thing"
81 was very littlen she said with a pretty
laugh, and frank and bold as a sparrow .sbut
lovers"
"Why on st. Johns day?" asked the young
man, stopping to look at her.
Because one must have lover to dance with
So SOOnI That pure brow those innocent ewes
that childish mouth, all these were to be pro-
famed by the boortsh gallantry of rustic. Maui
rice felt vague jealousy dawn in his heart.
W Ill you have me for a loyer?n said he re-
Stunning his work.
'ohl you! you are gentleman and 1. I am
peasant; good girls do not listen to gentle
men,
That is the village code of morals; the young
man answered nothing.
Il cannot see any longer; will you come back
mere tomorrow, a little earlier2"
For my portrait?"
AZ will come back. Good evening. sir.u
She raised her bundle OF wood and went away
into the deepening shadows, beneath the arch
way OF the dark chestnut trees.
Maurice went home dreaming of the fair-haired
Child. He had seen her often, and had always
looked at her, but with the eyes OF an artist
Now it seemed to him that he looked at her with
the eyes OF jealous lover That night and the
next day seemed 1nterminable to him; and long
before the appointed hour he was in the glade
He worked alone, and when the young girl az
rived little late-already playing the coquette-
she was quite surprised.
at is really myself" said she. "will you
give 1t to me?'
NO Will make you little one for your
self" - ~ N
And that one what will you do with it9"
at Will go to Paris, 1t Will be put in a large
frame, it will be hung in beautiful gallery, and
every one will come and look at it.
''Ah! yes, know, In the exhibition
1Have you heard of the exhibition,
There are gentlemen painters here who work
for the Exhibition, as they say, but they never
Daylight was fading gently; Maurice found, as
On the preceding evening, the exquisite soft ttnts
which had SO charmed him, and his work ad-
yanced hundred cubits toward posterlty.
He saw her again several times beneath the
Checker daylight OF his inprovised studio and
he took pleasure in making this work his best
one. Already celebrated he had no need to
make himself name, and yet he was sure that
this picture would put the seal to his renown.
BY the time he was quite satisfied with it, win
terhad come and Maurice loved his little model.
He loved her too much to tell her SO, too much
to Sully this field flower Of whom he could not
make his wife, but enough to suffer at the
thought OF leaving her. She had none OF those
qualities which secure the happiness OF a life;
neither depth of feeling nor the devotion which
causes us To forget everything. nor the passion
which is an excuse for everything; she was
pretty field flower, little vain, little coquet-
fish, with 10 great faults nor yet great virtues.
Maurice knew that she was not for him, and yet
he loved the graceful lines of her figure as vet
scarcely developed, and which her home-Spun
gown chastely EMBODIED without Disgusting. He
loved the deep eyes, the laughing mouth the
fair hair that was always In disorder the little
handkerchief tied across her breast-he loved it
all, and Il was with reluctance that he went
when we have nothing to hope for on our re-
turn. II IS so hard 70 leave behind a bit of ones
life, OF which nothing is to remain.
He carried away his picture, however and it
was before 1t that he passed his happiest hours
that winter, always perfecting a work which
was already perfect The picture was admired;
thusiasm, declared that such faces could not
exist, excepting In the brain Of poet or in the
Imagination OF q painter. Maurice listened
smiling, and kept for himself the secret OF the
sweet face that had inspired him. He received
brilliant offers for his picture; never had 50
high price been offered for any of his works;
but he refused, and he refused also to allow It
10 be copied. Since he was never to possess
anything OF his model but her likeness he in
tended that that should be his alone.
Autumn was drawing near when he returned
to tie village; twice had the fires of st. John
seen the HhirlS OF the merry dance since he had
painted the portrait and when he thought Of
the young girl. it was with smile that was
somewhat sad, as he asked himself on which of
the village r,iSticS she had fixed her choice
His ilrSt pilgrimage on arriving was to the
forest OF chestnut trees; at the fall OF day
night comes quickly at the beginning OF o to
ber-he wandered down the long path: but II
was no longer dark; II was traversed by an
amber sunbeam. which seemed TO have fastened
Itself on every one OF the leaves which quivered
On the branches or cracked beneath his feet.
The odOr OF the dead leaves brought TO him a
whole world OF regrets, OF remembrances of
bitterness, stirring up within him an unspeak-
able sadness. and a more complete disgust with
everything that he had sought up to that time
When he had reached the glade he sat down on
The spot where eighteen months before he had
made the sketch which had since crowned his
IenoWn. The cold stone seemed to laugh at him
ironically for all that he had suffered.
,o "A peasant girl-a coquette! matter of great