The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-08-11
A GAY DEcEIvER.

and peculiar twirl given to their drap-
cry have captivated the Partisan ladies.
So they crowd Jacques's studio and
ilnplore him to let them sit for Dianas
and Andromedas. But he is most I'M
romantic 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 he is SO in
dustrious that he flies from useless words
and time consumers-that is to say,
women and bores. A year ago, just after
the art exhibit closed, jacques determin-
ed to go on sketching tour. So he
packed his trunk, assisted by his friend
Eugene de Lassi, and was bidding adleu
to his studio, when the servant entered
with a 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 women!' he said.
"What's the matter?" asked his friend.
"Why, I'm such an unlucky fellow"
replied jacques. '"There's always some
woman or other bothering 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 would
say he would like to see my paintings
because he admired the cut of my beard.
Look" said he, picking up the letter,
"'address Nine. Leonie,' such street
and number"
'But," said Eugene, who was reading
the note, "it's very we'll written, l assure
you; full of the most delicate wit. What
are Won going to do with it?"
ooh, you literary man" groaned
Jacques. "What am going to do with.
it? Why, burn it, of course. What do
you suppose am going to do with it?"
''I'll tell you what you want to do with
it," said Eugene; you're going away
eyes,"
''Then give it to me-"
"Why, what will you do with it?" said
Jacques, with stare"
"Well, I'll play painter" replied
Eugene. "I'm not much of one, but I
can daub a little-enough at all events,
to deceive q woman in love. And Ill
find out who Nine. Leonie' is-that's
only part of her name, I'm sure"
So it was settled. Jacques Bruhiere,
painter, set off for Switzerland and Eu-
gene de Lassi, man of letters, remained
GO DeISOudLc ulu DuO Ava 4hhCs
Leoni,. Other visitors were told the
truth that the master was gone. Eu-
genes romantic fancy had painted her as
young and beautiful. But she was more
than that-she was divine. She was a
brunette, and had the most delightful
nose, the most sparkling eyes, the most
glorious hair and the most admirable
little hands and feet that Eugene had
ever seen. He flattered himself that he
was correctly made up for his role. His
velvet blouse and jaunty cap were little
too clean, perhaps, but that was good
fault.
Nine. Leonic wanted her portrait
painted, and it was very difficult for her
to decide how it should be done. She
wavered 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 preparations
his tickle goddess ecided that "Delilah"
was the character that suited her. And
then she would wander around the studio
and drape herself with the barbaric stuffs
used by long gone models and handle
the curious weapons and examine the
purcelains. And then she would say 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 q dream. He
had retired from the world. At his 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. lie
had told his servant he was going away,
but had not told him whore. 1t was
wrong, decidedly wrong; but he took
certain, ferocious Joy in it when he
thought how he himself had once pur-
sued these self-same editors and mana.
gers.
Eugene had at last discovered that his
inamorata was q widow, wealthy and of
good family. Her full name was Leonie
de Forse. He had never told his love,
but that she was blind to it was impos-
sible. Yet she was certainly blind to
his painting, for she expressed her adj
miration of it with an enthusiasm that
made Eugene Vince. But one day,
when he was, Is usual, attempting to
transfer her to canvas, . particularly
atrocious tree which he had introdu ced
in the background attracted her atten-
ton.
"Jacques," said she, "don't you think
that you are-well. that you're losing q
little Of your skill?"
ssWhat?" shouted Eugene.