Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1880-01-30
NINA.


luIOuSu Tie puuliG SaANoAt -
about the picture he was painting, think
ing how the light among the trees sug-
gested certain strains OF music to him,
when his eye fell upon q young girl
feeding the swans, and fingered there.
'If could only carry that face home
in my minds eye, and reflect it upon
my canvass he thought, "she is the
very image of URdine herself" Just
then the child beside her reached across
the brim of the basin to toss crumb
into the water and lest her balance.
Quick as thought Victor sprang to the
rescue, brought the child up dripping,
and confronted Undine, out of whose
face all the rose had faded, all the sun
shine had fled.
"Oh, how shall thank you what
shall / do for you % she cried. "If you
had not saved her how could l have
lived? She is my little neighbor, and |
promised to be so careful of her. Oh,
though you are stranger, feel as il
you were my best friend"
"Tnen oblige me by meeting me mere
again, and telling me how our little
friend bears her drenching," he returned
as he put them into a carriage. Then
he went to his studio and tried to linn
the face of Undine, and threw down his
brush in despair. And the next day,
happening into the public garden again,
there she was before him, smiling and
blushing, with the child beside her.
81 thought perhaps we should meet
you here" she confessed. Jenny
brings her mothers thanks. How can
we repay you but with our prayers p
IF you could sit to me"
az? You mean jenny"
81 mean yourself. II you could come
to my studio and let me paint you"
sYou are laughing at me !"
81 was never more serious IN my
life."
"Let us go then" she said,
"Your picture is long in finishing,
she remarked one day, after innumera-
BILE sittings; for Victor had every night
wiped out what he had laboriously
painted in during the day, so difficult
was it to imprison the shadow of his
model within the canvas, to lend TO I'm
dine the soul that sat and smiled in
Nina's eyes, to endow her with the spir-
it that informed the face, flushed in the
oval cheek, or trembled about the mo-
bile mouth.
"You are tired of coming to me. l
tax you too long"
"No." she replied: II was only think
ing that if made my flowers so slowly,
| should starve."
Victor laughed softly. "Fame is bet
ter than money"
"Aud life is better than fame"
And then Victor threw down his
brush. "The sun is setting" he said;
let us go out upon the bay for inspira-
tion."
And Nina followed, nothing loath.
How cool and sweet the hour was out
there, with sails blowing out like wings
of white gulls in the offing and pleasure
boats lettering or speeding by How
gaily the sun smote the city'C spires,
and changed the windows Of dingy
warehouses on the warves into precious
stones like those Of Aladdin's palace |
How much pleasanter all this was than
sitting al home, IN dark alley, over
her artificial flowers, trying to embody
fancies in satin and velvet
Victor walked to the dark alley in
the dusk with Nina, and thought OF the
white lilies that grew into perfect
beauty and sweetness, though rooted
in mould and slime.
Sothe friendship grew between Victor
and Nina-Nipa, the poor little flower
maker, the last of her race, and Victor
Blumenthal, the artist and millionaire
and the picture grew apace. Some
how he dared not finish it, lest Nina
should feel her debt paid, and escape
him.
''Oh, what is that beautiful thing ?"
she asked one day, as he trilled famil-
lar air, while spreading his palette.
"Did you make it up yourself ?'-her
face all aglow.
1T is an air from an opera" laughed
Victor, "from Trovatore. The honor of
making it up belongs to one Verdi.
have you never heard an opera ?"
"Never."
"Then you shall hear one tonight
Hold Trovatore is on the bill for this
blessed night. What a coincidence 7"
And so, when the city lamps were try
ing to Guido the stars, Victor drew Nj
mas trembling hand within his own, and
they became part OF the gay ana Iasn-
ionable world inside the theater. And
what world it was, with all the glitter
of lights and beautiful faces, the glim-
mer of silks and jewels, the odor of musk
and sandalwood, and the kind, hand
some face Of Victor Blumenthal shining
upon her How the tenor sang out,
sweet as the syllables Of love how the
soprano scared what depths the bass
explored what pathos, what sorrow,
what delight swelled and ebbed with the
chords Did people really love and
suffer and despair and triumph like
this? Had she lived through it all her
self, somewhere, somehow, that itseem-
ed like an echo OF her own experience,
or was it but a shadow Of things to come
When the curtain fell. Victor discovered
tears in her eyes. Other people were
laughing around her; one tai gentle
man almost stopped to look under her
nat as he passed, bowling to her com.
panion, and would have joined them
mad Biumenthal been less frigid.
Il have seen that sntleman before,