The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1883-11-14
The muIatto OF murino.-A True Story.


The MaIatto OF Murino.-A True Story.
IHarper's Young People.l
One beautiful summer morning. about the
wear 1890 several youths of Seville approach
ed the dwelling of the celebrated painter
Murillo. where they arrived nearly at the
same time. After the usual salutation they
entered the studio. Murillo was not yet
there. aud each of the pupils walked up
quickly to his easel to examine If the paint
had dried. or perhaps to admire his work OF
u the previous evening:
Pray, gentlemen" exclaimed Isturitz, an
grily. (which of you remained behind in the
studio last nightP''
What an absurd question: Don't you
recolect that We ali came away together
With these words MendeZ, with careless
AIR. approached his easel when an exclama-
tiOn of establishment escaped him, aud he
gazed i'm mute surprise on his canvas
\ on which was roughly Sketched a most beau
- tiful head of the Virgin.
At this moment some one was heard enter
ing the room. The pupils turned at the
sound and all made a respectful obeisance
TO the great master.
"Look. Senior MurillO. lOOki' exclaimed
the youths. as they pointed TO tine easel OF
MendeZ.
who has painted ths-who has painted
this head gentlemen asked MurillO eager
ly. speak; tell me. He who has sketched
this head will one day be the master of us
skill, Mendez. ms dear pupil, was il your
mo, Senior" replied Mendez, in sOrrow-
full tone
Was it you, then, IstuEitz, Ferdinand.
or CarlosT'
But they all gave the same reply as Mendez.
81 think, sir" said COrdoVa. the Youngest
of the pupils, that these strange pictures
are very alarming. To tell the truth, such
wonderful things have happened in your
studio that one scarcely knows what to be-
lieve."
What are they" asked MuriIlo. still lost
in admiration of the beautiful head by the
unknown artist.
According to your orders, senior, an
swered Ferdinand, I'VE never leave the stu
-diO without putting everything IN order; but
when we return in the morning, not only is
everything in confusion. our brushes filed
with paint. our palettes dirtied, but here
and there are sketches, sometimes oil the
head of an angel, sometimes OF a demon,
then again young girl, or the figure OF an
old man, but all admirable, as you have
seen yourself, senior"
This is certainly curious affair, gentle
men," observed Murillo, ''but we shall soon
learn who is this nightly visi liant. Sebas-
tan, lie continued, addressing little mu-
lattO boy about fourteen years old, who ap-
peaTed at his call, did | not desire YOU to
sleep here every night?'
''Yes, master" said the boy, with timidi
ty.
"And have you done so?''
''Yes, master"
Speak, then: who was here last night
and this morning before these gentlemen
Gamer
No one but me, / swear to you, master"
cried the mUlatto, throwing himself on his
knees in the middle of the studio. aud hold
ing out his little hands in duplication be.
fore his master.
Listen to me-" pursued NTurilIo. II wish
10 know who has sketched this head OF the
Virgin and all the figures which my pupils
find every morning here on coming to the
studio. This night, in place of going to bed
you shall keep watch and If by tomorrow
you do not discover who the cuIprit is YOU
shall have twenty-five strokes from the lash
" on hear. | have said it. Now 20 and
grind the colOrs; and you, gentlemen. to
work -
From the commencement until the term
1nation of the hour OF instruction Murillo
was too much absorbed with his pencil to al
low word to be spoken but what related to
their occupation; but the moment he disap-
peared conversation began. and naturally
turned TO the subject in which they were all
interested.
beware, Sebastian, of tic lash. said Men,
DEE, and watch well for the culprit; but
give me the Naples yellow
. You do not need IL, Senior MendeZ; you
have made it yellow enough already land as for
the cnlprit. have already told you that it is
the Zombi
Are these negroes fools with their ZOmbi2'
said GonzalO, laughing. Pray what is a
ZombiT"
"Oh, an imaginary being, of course. But
take care. Senior Gonzalo," continued Sebas-
tian with d mischievOus glance at his easel
''for il must be the Zonlbi who has stretched
the left arm of your ST. John to such n
length that if the right resembles it he will
be able To unite his shoe string withoutstoop-
ing"
DO YOU know. gentlemen said Isturitz
as he glanced at the painting, THAT the re-
marks of Sebastian are extremely Just, and
much to the point? Who knows but
that from grinding the colors he may one
day astoniSh us by showing Us he knows one
from the other"
It was night, and the studio OF Murillo, the
most celebrated painter in Seville, was now
as silent as the grave. A single lamp burned
upon a marble table. and young mulatto
boy. whoseieyes sparklcd like diamonds lean
ed against an easel. ImmOyable and still,
he was so deeply absorbed in his meditations
that the door OF the studio opened by one
who seyerel times called him by name, and
who. on receiving no answer, approached and
touched him. Sebastian raised his ewes
which rested on tall and handsome negro.
"Whv do you come here, fatherg' he asked
fn a melancholy tone.
TO keep your company. Sebastian"
There is no need, father; i can watch
\ alone"
But what If the Zombi should Gomez
Il do not fear him." replied the boy. with
sad smile.