The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-03-10

the artist probably thought no more of
it than of his prototype, being engrossed
with other works. One evening, on
quitting company at Nj. de Gisor's, the
architect of Luxembourg, David, was
accosted by an unknown person, who
dealt him two terrible blows from
behind, which laid bare his skull. But
for the help of passing workman he
With difficulty the sculptor dragged him
self to his abode. His attempted assassin
remained undiscovered, although David
always suspected rival against whom he
voted in a competition, and who after
wards died mad. A few years later, when
the episode had been nearly forgotten by
its victim, David of Anglers las he is
called) received a letter inviting him to
repair, between midnight and l o'clock,
to certain house in the Faubourg St.
Jaques, near the hospital Val de Grace.
A sign, understood by patriots" was
traced on the cover. David, fancying
that it referred to convocation Of some
political refugees, prepared to start with
out any misgivings. The note stated
that the house had no concierge and that
the bearer must go provided with COW
cred lantern. On the fourth story he
would see cross chalked on the door,
which could be opened on knocking.
Somebody would be there to receive him.
The proposal sounded mysterious, not to
say suspicious. but the recipient of this
strange missive was young; and the rO'
mantle school, with friend Hugo at the
head, was just at its dawn. He set off,
arriving at the house indicated little
after midnight
On reaching the fourth floor David
perceived the chalk cross, when he
knocked as instructed. without any mis-
givings. No answer. He knocked again,
with the same result, until. thinking he
had been made the dupe of some prac
teal Joke, the midnight visitor was about
to descend and wend his way homeward.
All on sudden the opposite door open
ed, when young woman appeared with
light in her hand. Recognizing David,
she became pale, exclaiming in a terri
fed voice, what! isl you? You, Mon
sieur David"
The sculptor. in his turn, stood stupe-
fed as he saw before him, still beautiful,
though trem bling, the little street girl OF
the Hue Montparnasse, the young Greek
of the tomb of Botzaris.
go away from here, as quick as you
cam she cried In supplicating tones.
IF you stay, You are dead man. And
be sure not to say a word about it, else
we shall be undOne, my mother and l.
All! mon Dieu! did not know it was
you. Be off at once, beg of you. Mon
sieur David"
'Be it So" responded the sculptor,
faQlInp that n1Ona without hp
would be no match for his hidden ene-
mics. Descending rapidly the staircase,
| he gained the street, and posted himself
few doors off in the entrance to the
| court. A few minutes later several men
approached, who disappeared stealthily
in the house he had just quilted. II
| recognized my assassin among them"
Many years elapsed, when one day
David was impelled by the desire to
revisit the site. Knocking at the door
where the girl had appeared, he OBJ
tanned no answer. Asking a workman
on the stair for Mile. Clementine,
Don't know her." was tine gruff re-
ply"
| Nobody in the place had ever heard
of woman of that name Disappeared,
doubtless, the lassie of 1927, who had
incarrated such a beautiful dream. In
month of August, 1913, following the
obsequies of his comrade Cortot, of
whom he said, His sculpture is of ice
an honest tradesman, who puts
the right weight in the scales,
neither more nor less" David
deserted, lounging along the Quai
Malaquais, his old model, grown to wo-
manhood, still beautiful, though misera-
BILE. Under her arms she carried the
figure of Christ the same which the
sculptor gave her, with the exhortation,
"You shall think of it when you are
tempted to go wrong" For moment
the thought passed through his mind
of leaving the procession to follow the
woman on her errand to the bric-a-brac
dealers of the quarter, and for months
afterwards he scanned the windows of
these curiosity shops, to espy, if posi-
BILE, this bronze figure of the Saviour.
Five or six years subsequently the artist
once more stumbled across his vision.
Alasl how changed and fallen. David
saw her disappear in one of the hideous
dens of vice, in company with noted
bully. This creature, bearing already
at forty the stigma of decrepitude, was
the maiden whom the sculptor and poet
had met, who had for q moment impreg-
mated their dreams of art with the genius