The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1881-07-07
LOVE WITH A PAINTER.
From the French Of Theo. De BanvlIe.

From the French Of Theo. De BanvlIIe.
Jacques Bruhiere is an artist whose
neurological pictures have a most de-
ligiTtfUl modern air. His Grecian god
desses lock like Parisiennes; their wind
blown hair, their high-heeled sandals,
and a peculiar tWirl given to their dFa-
perry, have eaptivated the Partisan la
dies. So they crowd Jacques studio,
and implOre him to let them sit for Di-
anRs and .AndrOmedas. But he is a
most unromantic fellow, and is sWayed
by no other consideration than those of
gain. Although he is but thirty, he
gained fame and some fortune; and he
is so industrious that he flies from use
less words and e-eonsumers that is
to say, women and bOres.
a year ago, just after the art exhibit
closed, Jacques determined to 90 on q
sketching tour. So he packed his
trunk, assisted by his friend, Eugene
de Lassi, and was bidding adieu to his
Studio, when the servant entered with a
note. 1t was q nice little note, daintily
perfumed, and the address was written
in the most delicate hand imaginable.
He read it, frOWned, and, crUmpling it
up, threw It on the floor.
''Confound the WOmenp' he cried.
"What's the matter?" asked his
friend.
"Why, I'm such an unluoky fellow"
Jacques. ''There's S always some woman
or other bothering me, writing about
how she admires mypaintings, and how
she'd like to see me and all that sort Of
a thing Just as if man should say
he would like to see my paintings be-
cause he admired the cut of my beard.
Look" said ne, picking up the letter.:
address Madame Leonie, such a street
and number
'.But, said Eugene, who was read
ing the note, ''it's very well written, l
assure You; frlI-of the most delicate
wit. What are you going to do with
it P''
80, you literary menr' grOaned
Jacques. What am going to do with
it? Why, burn it, of course. What do
you suppose I am going to do with it?''
'.pI tell you what to do with it, "
said Eugene; ''yOu're going away"
yes"
''Then give it to me-"
"Why, what'l you do with it?n said
Jacques, with a stare.
''WelI. rn play painter" replied Eu-
gene. ''pm not much of one, but
can daub little-enough at all events,
to deceive a woman in love. And I'll
find out who Madame Leohie' is; that's
only part of her name, I'm sure"
So it was settled. Jacques Bruhiere,
painter, set off for Switzerland, and
Eugene de Lassi, man of letters. re-
mafned to persOnate him. But only for
Madame LeOnie. Other visitors were
told the truth-that the master was
gone.
At last she came Eugene's roman
tic fancy had painted her as young and
beautiful. But she was more than that
she was divine. She was q brunette,
and had the most delightful nose, the
most sparkling eyes, the most glorious
hair, and the most adorable little hands
and feet that Eugene had ever seen. He
fattered himself that he was correctly
made up for his role. His velvet blouse
and jaunty cap were a little too clean,
perhaps, but that was 4 good fault
Madame Leonie wanted her portrait
painted, and it was very difficult for her
to decide how it should be done. She
wayered long: One day she would be
Omphale; the next she had decided
that to be represented as SalOme was
necessary to her peace of mind. But
when Eugene had made his prepara-
tions, his tickle goddess decided that
Delilah was the character that suited
her. And then she would wander
around the studio, and drape herself
with the barbaric stufs used by long
gone models, and handle the curious
weapons, and examine the pOrcelains.
And then she would say that she was
weary, and would come the next day.
And she would 90, leaving Eugene de
LasSi deeper in love than ever.
As for him he was in q dream. He
had retired from the world. Athis own
quarters his door was daily stOrmed by
publishers, by managers, BY printers,
boys, by creditors, and by friends. But
no one knew where he had gone. He
had told his servants he was going
away, but had not told them where. It
was wrong, decidedly wrong; but he
took a certain ferociOus Joy in it when
he thought how no himself had once
pursued these same editors and man
ayers.
Eugene had at last discovered that
his inamOrata was q widow, wealthy,
and of good family. Her full name was
Leonie de NOres. He had never told
L. I,rrE fhoA u1, hind fo #
was impossible. Yet she was certainly
to his painting, for she expressed her
admiration of it with an enthusiasm
that made Eugene vince. But one day
when he was, as usual, attempting to
transfer her to canvas, q particularly
atrociOus tree which he introduced in
the background attracted her attention.
Jacques" said she, don't you think
that you are-that you aTe-well, that
YOU'RE losing q little Of your skil?'
"Whatn' shouted Eugene.
81 mean-that is-pm afraid that I
keep you from your work SO much
that"
i only hope that you may keep me
from It forever" returned the amoroUs
Eugene. And so the dangerous mo-
ment passed.
But this state of affairs could not last
forever. One fine day, as Eugene was
seated upon q divan, thinking Of his
lady-love, who had just departed, who
should enter but Jacques Bruhiere.
Yes. there be was, with his attendant
carving his umbrella, his sketch-bOoks,
his camp-stools, bis baggage true
artist, Just from the country. The false
one trembled rs he thought that his
dream was over. Had he been . Bor-
gia, he would have slain his friend. As
he was not, he pressed his hand warm
ly, and babe him welcome.
But how could he extricate himself
from his dilemma? How could he an
swer 10 high spirited woman for the