Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1882-12-13

The Artist. Death Model.

The Artists Death Model.
SAINT Anne is the patron saint OF the
little town OF 81. Anne du Salat. Many
years ago a painter, then a young, wild
rowing, careless fellow, named Buccafer
TIA, was engaged by the clergy of the
church Of that town TO paint an altar piece
called the Death II 81. Anne, the picture
only TO be accepted if 1, pleased those who
were to pay for 1t. Naturally the arti Il
was anxious about his work, and most
anxious about hIs model. slsny round
bTown-faced country woman would have
pnsed behind his easel for little money.
hut round, brown faced country women
do not look like dead St Anne.
The priests were very ANXIOUS that their
sSint should have the proper expression,
and the artist did not find himself able Ia
conceive the face without a model. lie
was In despair; ne had gone from c>ttage
70 cOttage-he had peered In at windows,
stopped at shops, looked about him every.
where; the regular features and solemn and
divine expression were not to be found. Al
last, followed by the boy who gronnd his
cplcrs and carried his canvasses, Buccafer-
rata entered Tavern where wine was u
be sold, aud sat down al table To ;.rink
Night mad set In, torches cleaned from
sc1nces set in the wall. The landlord was
not present, and the drinkers spoke In low
voices, or even IN whispers.
Something is the matter here Thought
the artist, and be questioned the servant
who brought him MS gIue.
Indeed there Is, responded the lad.
''My ma ter's wife Is dead. She lies In
the next room. She was good woman
Ny master finds himself desolare. Ne are
all grieved. no one knew madame without
loving her
'-Sne lies deal in the next room,
thought the artist Poor woman. re
member her-a jolly, red-fsced soul. She
l,id not resemble saint Anne even in dy-
ing, am sure.
lie sat long over his wine. One by one
a other drinkers slipped away. The boy
sat drowsIly at his side; the waiter slept
on the bench;the artist was alone. Througb
the crack at the bottom of door ray OF
lignt shone. Within the watchers sat be
side the corpse They tad with them, a
was the custom of the country, great
quantities of wine and brandy, and has
Deeu drinking steadily all day. 1t was now
nine o'clock. There had been some moist
and some loud talking, but all was que
now. An idea occurred to the artist. Il
was this: Death, at least, was IN tha
room. Ii might be death in no sanity
shape. but at least in soRe things deati
bears the same traits He would look upol
4 old N Il Al
he might To that, and il might spur III
! / .iagIuatlon 10 the necessary point. H'
might ldeaiIze what ne saw. Ii Was pcs
siOle that he might yet paint his alta
piece.
| Rising he stepped toward the door
opened il aud looked in. The coffin stool
on trestles in the center of the room, tn
candies about it haung with long, ne
elected wlcks, aud gullies OF wax ruunini
do yn their sides. The watchers. husband
end AL, mad drunk themselves INTO stupOr
and lay on the bed, on the noOr, acros
chairs. any where, asleep and snoring.
| The artist advanced and looked dow
rpon the face of the deed wsoman- IL NJ
| Madame HorIelle had been rosy and round
coarse and jolly; her features were nne
| but too plentlfuliy cushioned Win nesh
Now there lay In the cotfin marble We
man, with strange, heavenly smile, a
though in passing from her body she lei
with it the memory of her first glimpse G
heaven.
Amazed, almost terrific, the artist look
ed upon that face. Then he rushed int
tue outer room, ordered his boy To bria
the great Tag of painting materIa be cai
ried for HIM, and snatchlng torch troI
the wal, thrust 1t into nls small hand
"Hold that 50 that the light falls upo
The face" he SAID. ''So-so-do not dar
TO stir," And Withdrawing little dis
lance he weLt to work
For two hours he labOred alone wit
death and sleep, and tAat trembling Iat
who, almost paraiyZed with terror, sti
did not venture 10 refuse his task.
the sketch grew beneath his finger
Madame HorIelle's lineaments were tram
r ferred to the the thin board on which
paintee-tbe eyes closed, the mouth smi
lIug dlvlnely, the banded hair beneath II
white cap, the grave-clothes t"lded ov
fae still bosom, the hands crossed upc
them over the crucIhx.
Master" panied the boy at last, :
can bear no more. | am dying"
.shoid the torch higher" cried the ar
ist. -,
The youth attempted 10 do so, but Il
! action so altered the bIckerIng light upc
/, the features, that 1t appeared to nun IN
Madame Hortelle moved her head al
, looked at him.
With a shrek of horror he dropped Il
torch and fed.
The artist looked after him. but |
/, /, sketch was done, and he also fell d certa
l terror of the supernatural cre' ping ov
him. He exIinguIsned the tore ,,gather'
: I'D his paints. took his ricture In his han
L and h..ving made the sign OF the Gro:
hurried from the chamber OF death.
To-day, a picture called the Dcath
T N. Anne hangs over the altar OF the chur
of ST. Anne du Salat. The priests d
very proud OF the divine expression
.aint; and no one knew, no one in the y
: iaye ever guessed, that that divine cou
!. enance was the one worn In death
$ Madame Hortelle, the tavern keepe
t wife. Only after he had grown to ms
e mood did the boy who held the torch on
S the coffin that night, whisper the story
g his friends
G NothIIs Mean About Him.