The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-12-17
THE PORTRAIT.
A PRETTY LITTLE LOVE STORY, FROM
THE FRENCH OF HENRY GREvILLE.

'oS - kopc Va =
rolling from leaf to leaf with the light
sound of a nearly exhausted fountain
trickling into it's half-flled basin, and in
the distance the dark path opened out
into Il wet glade of q deep green of ex-
quisite 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 arches of a cathe-
dral at the hour when all is dark in the
church and when the colored windows
cast into the gloom CLEANS of light 50
intense and so mysterious that you would
think them lit up by a fire of live Goals
from without.
Maurice loved this hour at the declineo of
day, when after the rain the sun has not
shone out, and when Il gray tint is cast
over everything, blending outlines, soft.
ening angles and investing every shape
with a smooth and exquisite roundness.
He walked slowly. discovering every
moment in the well-known forest some
beauty till then unknown, and he vas
thrilled to the very depths of his being
by that tender admiration for nature
which is II of the characteristics Of
genius.
Having reached the glade, he looked
around him. The grass was green and
brilliant; the delicate leaves of the
shrubs, shining beneath the water which
had washed them, formed 4 fine, lace
like network against the dark back
ground of the great forest beyond. He
stopped in order to see better. TO observe
better and to take in better the impress
sion Of the wet forest. more impressive
and more human, 81 to speak. in It's
great shadows, than beneath the sum
shine in all the splendor of the day.
The pretty and graceful figure of a
Young girl stood out against the foliage
Of the birch trees. She advanced with
supple movement without perceiving
Maurice. who, as immovable as the
trunk Of a chestnut tree. was watching
her. When two steps from him the
young girl perceived him. She started
and let fall a few twigs from the fagot Of
wood that she was carrying on her
head.
"Ysu frightened me-" said she, smil-
ing: and her large black eyes snone
out merrily beneath the tangle of her
blonde hair.
lie looked at her without answering.
A complete harmony, which no words
"a render, reigned between the slender
figure, the laughing face. the lace-like
foliage of the glade and the tints of the
landscape.
STAND still" said the young man; 81
nm going to take your portrait"
She wished to push back her hair,
which had fallen over her face, but he
prevented her by a gesture.
Remain as you are"
He seated himself on q stone and
sketched rapidly the outline and features
of his young model. She was a peasant,
but delicate and refined as the young
girls OF the :peasantry often are before
their complete and often tardy develop
ment, The eyes were already those of
woman, the smile was still that of q
child.
.How old are you" asked the painter,
still working.
81 shall soon be sixteen"
Already! saw you three years ago
= little bit Of n thing"
Il was very little" said she, with a
pretty laugh, and frank and bold rs a
sparrow. but | grew fast. and on St.
cctinS tliS L lLtti llStSC lONtIS.
why on St. Johns day" asked the
young man. stopping to look at her.
Because one must have q lover to
dance with round tie bonfire"
So soon That pure brow. those inno-
cent eyes,, that childish mouth, all these
were to be profancd by the boorish gal.
!antry Of 4 rustic! Maurice felt vague
ealousy down in his heart.
Twill you have me for a lover?" said
he. rcsumipg hiswork.
"Oh, you. you are a gentleman, and /,
] I'm a peasant: good girls do not listen
to gentlemen"
That is the village code o fmorals; the
young man answered nothing. .
Il cannot see any longer; will you
come back here tomorrow, a little
'ariierp"
For my portrait?"
Yes"
Twill come back. Good evening,
sir"
She raised her bundle of wood and
went away into the deepening shadows.
beneath the archway Of the dark chest
nut trees.
Maurice went home dreaming of the
fair-haired Child. He bad seen her often.
and had always looked at. her. but with
the eyes of IN artist. Now it seemed to,
him that he looked at her with the eyes
Of a jealous lover. That night and the
next day seemed interminable to him.
and long before the appointed hour he
was in the glade.
He worked alone, and when the young
girl arrived, q little late-already play
ing the croquette-she was quite sur
prised.
ut is really myself" said she. Will
you give it to mc?"
mo, ! will make you a little one for
YOURSELF"
And that one, what will you do
with ite"
1t will 20 to Paris, it will be put in
a large frame, it will be hung in 4 beau
tiful gallery, and every one will come
and look at it,"
All! ycs,I know, in the exhibition"
Have you heard of the exhibition"
There are gentlemen painters here
who work for the exhibition, as they
saE but they v took my portrait"
Daylight was fading gently; Maurice
found, US on the preceding evening. the
exquisite soft tints which had SO
chained him, and his work advanced q
hundred cubits toward prosperity
He: saw her again several times be-
neatl, the checkered daylight of his i'm
proyised studio, and he took pleasure in
making this work his best one. Already
celebrated, he had no need to make him
self = name, and yet he was sure that
this picture would put the seal to his
renown.s '-
By the time he was quite satisfied
with it. winter had come, and Maurice
loved his little model. He loved her
too much to tell her, so. too much to
sully tiiis field flower OF whom he couid
not makehis wife, but enough to suffer
atthe thought of leaving her. She had
none,of those qualities which secure the
happinessa of u life; neither depth of
feeling nor tile devotion which causes
US to forget everything, nor the passion
which, is an excuse for everything: she
was = pretty field flower, a little vain.
a little coquettish, with no great faults
nor yet great virtues. Maurice knew,
thai she was not for him, and vet he