Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1881-10-13

I srvAuy 70 ms spooruInEes reneI, anuounc-
/ ing that he shouh be absent about an honr
IL was = sweet Spring morning, mild md
sunny, with son breeze and limpid blue
/ sky. Paris, with is dazzlingly white house.
/ fronts, is brilliant boulevArds, where the
! trees were just bursting into leaf, Its bloom.
I ing gardens, It's fountains splashinE and
sparkling in the sunshine, Its general air Of
l brightness, lightness, and newness, looked
like fairy city, eonjured up in a single
night
The money-lender, who never noticed pe
weather except when it compelled him 70
wear an overcoat or carry an umbrella,
went his way leisurely, with his hank
7 behind him, acknowledging the greetings
Of passing acquaintances by touching u
brim Of his hat with his forehnger. Down
/ the Rue de Ia Chaussee d'Antin, crossing
the Boulevard des Italiens, into the once
aristocratic Rue Louis-le-Grand. He stop-
ped at a tall, faded looking house at the
/ further end of the street. with hair.
dresser's shop on the ground-foor. Toll
ing up four flights of slippery stairs, he
| paused at a door, on which was nailed a
card with the inscription: &" Leon Leclerc;
Artiste-Peintre," and applied his knuckles
very discreetly to the upper panel.
His modest summons meeting with no
response, he opened the door few inches
| and looked in.
A large light bare room, unfinished,
except for a small pallet-bed in one corner,
and the usual litter Of an artists studio;
easels, canvases, lay figure half smoth-
cred in drapery, dusty plaster casts, and
anatomical drawings.
Near the window was tall easel sup
porting half-finished picture, and before
il, in a paintstained holland blouse, and
down-at-heel slippers. with his dark hair in
disorder about his forehead, sat the artist,
Leon Leclerc.
He was a tall, slight young fellow of
four or five-and-twenty, with handsome
olive face, mobile lips, and dark eyes full
of dreams under fine level brows. There
were haggard shadows under his eyes, and
between the brows was that upright furrow
which is so pathetic in young face, telling
as it does of some deep-seated grief or
gnawing care
he was not painting. He sat with one
elbow on his knee, in listless attitude,
pulling the ends of his long moustache,
and staring moodily at the picture before
him.
The visitor, after watching him a few
moments in silence, coughed to attract his
attention. He started and turned, and
seeing who it was, rose and made a hasty
movement as if he would have concealed
the picture. He checked himself, however,
and stood with the color mantling in his
dark cheek, looking with an expression,
half proud, half defiant, and altogether
hostile, at the intruder.
"Good-day, Monsieur Leclerc. startled
you, fear" the latter began, in his dry,
deliberate tones, as he entered and closed
the door.
II did not hear you knock"
"No,you were-h'm-busy Why, what
is this?" he continued, approaching the
easel II have not seen this canvas be-
fore"
Leon dabbed some more color on his
palette and began to paint with sudden
energy.
II know you have not. 1 did not intend
you to see it till it was exhibited in the
Salon."
His. companion gave him an odd look
under his bent brows.
"Ah, indeed? it was not intended for
me, then? Humph!"
he adjusted his spectacles with great
nicely, and backed away from the picture
till he got it at the proper focus.
1t represented street of sombre stone
houses in medieval Florence; in the fore
ground were the figures Of three ladies,
advancing towards the spectator; two were
clad in rich, dark draperies, the third, who
walked between her companions, in spot
less white. The face of this figure was
unfinished. At the side, in the shadow of
a heavy portico, stood youth, who was
gazing at the maiden in white with look
of rapt and passionate admiration.
"The meeting of Dante and Beatrice"
the artist explained, " from passage in
the Vita Nuova.' There is the book on
the table"
CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK