Arizona weekly citizen., 1881-08-14

the note, it Is very well written, I assure you, full Oi most dehcate wit. What are you going to do with it?"
 "Oh, you literary man" groaned Jacques. What am going to do with 1t? Why, burn 1t, of course. What do you suppose I am going to do with it?'
 I'll tell you what to do with 1t, said Eugene; you're going away
 "fes"
 "Then give it to me"
 "Why, what will yOu do with t?' said Jacques, with a stare.
 "Well, I'll play painter, replied Eugene. "Tm not much of a one, but l can daub a little-enough, at all events, to deceive a woman in love. And I'll find out who Mime. LeOnie' is; that's only part of her name, I'm sure"
 So it was settled. Jacques Bruhiere painter, set of for Switzerland, and Eugene de Lassi, man of letters, re- mained to persOnate him. But only for the truth-that the master was gone. At last she came. Eugene's 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 hattered 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 a good fault.
 Mime. Leonie wanted her portrait painted, and 1t was very difficult for her tO decide how it should be done. She wavered long. One day she would be Omphale, the next day she had decided that to be represented as SalOne was necessary to her peace of mind. But when Eugene had made his prepara- tons h-s tickle goddess decided that Dalilah was the character that suited her. And then she wOuli wander around his studio and drape herself in barbaric stuifs used by lOng-gOne models, and handle the curious weapons and exam me the pOrcelains. 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, be was in a dream. He had retired from the world At his own quarters his door was stoTmed by pub fishers, by managers, by printers boys, by creditors and by friends. But no one knew where he had gone. He had told hIs servant he was going away, but had not told him where. l. was wrong, de- cidedly wrong; but he took certain ferocIOus joy in 1t when he thought how he himself had once pursued these edit ors and managers.
 Eugene had at last discovered that his inamOrata was a widow. wealthy and of good family. Her full name was Leonie de Morse. He had never told his love, but that she was blind tO 1t was impos- sible. Yet she was certainly not blind to his painting, for she expressed her ad- miratiOn for 1t with an enthusiasm that made Eugene vince. But one day he was, as usual, attempting to transfer her to canvas, when particularly atrOciOus tree which he had introduced in the background attrasted her attention.
 Jacques" said she, don't you think that you are-well, that you are losing a little of your skill?'
 Whaty shouted Eugene.
 mean-that is-Tm afraid that I keep you so much from your work that"
 only hope that you may keep me from it altogether returned the amor ous Eugene. And SO the dangerous mo- ment passed.
 But this state of affairs could not last forever. One day, as Eugene was seated upon a divan, thinking of his lady love, who had just departed, who should enter but Jacques Brubiere. Yes, there he was, with his attendant carrying his um- brella, his sketch-bOOks, his camp stools, his baggage-a true artist from the country. The false one trembled as he thought that his dream was over. Had he been a BOrgia he would have slain his friend. As he was not, he pressed his hand warmly and bade 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 to per shading Jacques to consent to any ar- for keeping up the deception, that was out of the question, where his art was concerned the painter would prove as deaf as post, but as unman- ageable as balky horse. So Eugene was puzzled.
 Finally bright idea occurred to him.
 Why not" thought he, give a comic turn to the affair? If properly done, LeOnie will be disarmed. She is easily moved to laughter, and then l will ex- plain and beg her forgiveness"
 Alasl poor Eugene's idea was not a happy one.
 The next day when Leonie appeared 1t was Jacques who met her at the door. He was in blouse and cap, and carried palette and brushes.
 Can I see M. Bruhierey' she asked, with some little surprise.
 That IS my name, madame" replied the painter.
 You Jacques Bruhiere2" said she with an amused laugh, and she pushed by him and entered the studio. "YOu the great painter? No, nOr' And she seated herself and looked at him de- fiantly.
 But if she was at ease in the studio he was more so. Her quick woman's eye noted this, and on the easel there was already begun a canvas in which she the masters touch. Leonie was becoming i'll at ease. She picked up a little Hindoo god which stood on the table beside her. and fingered it nervOusly. Her hands trembled, the lit tle monster slipped from them and dashed to pieces on the floor. The artist stepped to the wall and rang the bell. The door opened, and a servant clad in livery and wearing an apron, rendered necessary by the fact of his cleaning brushes.
 "Did monsieur ring% he asked.
 Leonie stared at him and grew white
 "1es, Jean" replied the artist. Gather mp the fragments of this trifle, which