Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1881-05-05
LOVE WITH A PAINTER.
from the French of Theodore de Banville.


full modern air. His Greeian goddesses
look like Parisiennes; their wind blown
hair, their high heeled sandals, and pc
culiar twirl given to their drapery have cap
tivated their Partisan ladies. So they crowd
Jacquess studio, and implore him to let
them sit for Dianas and Andromedas.
But he is a most unromantic fellow, and is
swayed by no considerations other than
those of gain. Although he is but thirty,
he has gained fame and some fortune; and
is so industrious that he flies from useless
words and time consumers-that is to say
women and bores.
Ayear ago just after the art exhibit closed,
Jacques determined to go on sketching
tour. So he packed his trunk, assisted by
his friend Eugene de Lassi, and was bid
ding adieu to his studio, when the servant
note, .sdaintily pefumed, and the address
was written in the most delicate hand i'm
aginable. He read it, frowned, and crump-
ling it up, threw it on the floor.
"Confound the women!" he cried.
What's the matter?" asked his friend.
why, I'm such an unlucky fellow" re-
piled jacques. There's always some NO.
man or other bethering me, writing about
how she admires my paintings, and how
she'd like to see me, and all that sort Of
thing. just as if man should say he
would like to see my paintings because he
admired the cut of my beard. Look" said
he, picking up the letter, address Madame
Leonie,' such street and number"
But, said Eugene, who was reading the
note, Its very well written, l assure you,
full of most delicate wit. What are you
going to do with it,"
''Oh, you literary men, groaned JAG
ques. What am l going to do with it!
Why burn it, of course. What do you sup
pose 1 am going to do with it?'
''Tll tell you what to do with it," said
Eugene, YOUR going away"
Eyes"
Then give it to me.
Why, whatn you do with it?" said JAG
ques with a stare.
well, I'll play painter, replied Eugene.
I'm not much of one, but l can daub a
little--enough, at all events, to deceive a
woman in love. And I'll find out who
Madame Leonie' is-that's only Tart of her
name, I'm sure
So it was settled. jacques Bruhiere,
painter, set off for Switzerland, and Eugene
de Lassi, man of letters, remained to per-
senate him. But only for Madame Leonie.
Other visitors were told the truth that the
master was gone.
At last she came. Eugene's romantic
fancy had painted her as young and beau
tiful. But she was more than that-she
was divine. She was brunette, and had
the most delightful nose, the most spark
ling eyes, the most glorious hair, and the
most adorable little hands and feet that
Eugene had ever seen. He fattered him
self that he was correctly made up for his
role. His velvet blouse and jaunty cap
were little to clean, perhaps, but that was
good fault.
Madame Leonie wanted her portrait
painted, and it was very difficult for her to
decide how it should be done. She waver-
ed long. One day she would be Omphale;
the next she had decided that to be repre-
scented as Salome was necessary to her
peace of mind. But when Eugene had
made his preparations, his tickle goddess
decided that Delilah was the character that
suited her. And then she would wander
around the studio, and drape herself with
barbaric stuffs used by long gone models,
and handle the curious weapons. and ex-
anime the porcelains. And then she would
nay that she was weary and would come the
next day. And she would go, leaving
Eugene de Lassi deeper in love than ever.
AS for him, he was in dream. He had
retired from the world. At his own quart
his door was daily stormed by publish
ers, 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. 1t was wrong decidedly
wrong; but he took certain ferocious Joy
in it when he thought how he himself had
once pursued these same editors and
managers.
Eugene had at last discovered that his
inamorata was widow, wealthy, and of
good family Her full name was Lenoie de
Nores. He had never told his love, but
that she was blind to it was impossible
Yet she was certainly blind 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 at
tempting to transfer her to canvas, a par
ticularly atrocious tree which lie introduced
in the background attracted her atten-
ton.
Jacques" said she, don't you think
that you are-that you are-well, that you're
losing little of your skill?"
What" shouted Eugene.
II mean-that is-Pm afraid that I
keep you from your work so much that"
Il only hope that you may keep me from
it forever, returned the amorous Eugene.
And SO the dangerous moment passed =
But this state of affairs could not last for
ever. One fine day, as Eugene was seated
upon the divan thinking of his lady love,
who had just departed who should enter
but jacques Bruhiere. Yes, there he was,
with his attendant carrying his umbrella,
his sketch-books, his campstools, his bag
gage-a true artist Just from the country
The false one trembled as he thought that
his dream was over. he been Bor-
gia he would have slain his friend. AS he
was not, he pressed his hand warmly, and
babe him welcome.
But how could he extricate himself from
his dilemma? How could he answer to a
high spirited woman for the deception he
had practiced upon her? AS for persuad-
ing jacques to consent to any arrange
ment for keeping up the deception, that
was out of the question; where his art was
concerned the painter would prove as
deaf as post, and as unmanageable as
balky horse. So Eugene was puzzled.
Finally a bright idea occurred to him.
why not, thought he, ''give comic turn
to this affair? If properly done. Leonie
will be disarmed. She is easily moved to
laughter, and then ! will explain and beg
her forgiveness.
Alas! Poor Eugene's idea was not hap
Ply one.
The next day when Leonie appeared, it
was Jacques who met her at the door. He
was in blouse, cap, and carried palette and
brushes.
Can see Monsieur Bruhiere?" she asked,
with some little surprise
THAT is my name, madame, . replied the
painter.
"You Jacques Bruhierep said she with an
amused laugh; and she pushed by him and
entered the studio. You the great paint
er? No, mol and she seated herself and
looked at him difantly.
But if she was at her ease in the studio,
he was more SO. Her quick womans eye
noticed this, and On the easel there was
already begun canvas in which she rec
ognlzed the masters touch. Leonie was
becoming i'll at ease. She picked mp
little Hindoo god which stood on the table
beside her, and fingered it nervously. Her
hands trembled, the little monster slipped
From them and daahed in oaioas ~, tha