The Ottawa free trader., 1885-03-14
Jacques Lambert determined to win

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was seen burning through the win
dow of his studio, and early in the
morning he might be found at his
work.
But as day by day passed, each one
bringing nearer the exhibition, he be-
came almost despairing; for as yet he
had been unable to create on the can
vas no countenonce he deemed wor-
thy likeness to our Saviour. He grew
pale and haggard, and in vain poor
Bertha stroye to win him from the
project. One day as she stood by his
side looking down at Paul, as he sat
gazing up into her face with his beauti-
ful eyes, his long golden curls falling
on each side of a face of almost woman
ly sweetness and perfect innocence, she
suddenly exclaimed, Take Paul for a
model"
Quickly jacques glanced at the face
of the unfortunate, and wildly exclaim-
ing, "Why did not think of that my
self?" he fell back in his chair for mo-
ment motionless. His fierce looks quite
terrified the mild Bertha; but soon re-
covering he addressed her in his usual
manner.
"And l must send you away from
me, cara nia,' he murmured, softly.
Your sweet eyes come between me
and my work, and have SO much to
be done"
She pressed her soft lips to his fore
head, and quietly stole away.
After this he came in every day for a
moment, to see her. but always bade
her not to come to him until his picture
was finished for nothing must now
disturb him from his work.
He daily grew pale and thin, and his
wild, dark eyes burned with a strange
fire. His altered appearance was no.
ticcd by the villagers, and, coupled
with his strange actions, led them,
with their usual superstitious fears, to
the belief that he held communication
with evil spirits. All avoided him as
much as possible; and one more bold
than the rest further confirmed their
suspicious by alleging that one night,
crouching under the window, led by
curiosity, he heard cries and groans is
sue from within. Terrified almost out
of his senses, he hurried away as fast
as his trembling limbs could carry him,
and after that, on no consideration
would he 20 near the place again.
Poor Paul Laroni was missing, too,
and Jacques, fearing he might have
wandered away in the forest and lost
his path, offered liberal reward to
any one who would bring him back.
He himself could not lose the time from
his picture to join the search, but
party, headed by Hermann Dusseldorf,
secured the adjacent forest, and even
dragged the river, but found no trace,
save one of the boys silk handker-
chiefs, which they found near the river
bank. Public opinion was that the
boy had been drowned, and the body
borne away by the current toward the
sea.
Bertha, in her anxiety for her lover,
watched his studio window hour by
hour, hoping to catch, now and then,
glimpse of him at his work; but to no
avail Finally, one day he omitted
his usual visit to her; the light burned
in his window the whole night through,
and, fearing that he might be ill, she
ventured to disobey his command; and,
entering the house softly, she crept to
his studio door. She heard him NOV
ING about within, and thus, being as
sured of his safety, she sat down by
the door to wait until he should come
out
Suddenly a low wall, full of human
agony, smote her ear, and, struck with
terror, she remained for a moment
motionless; then Immediately following
it she heard wild laugh and the voice
of Jacques, exclaming:
1.-The very expression! Oh! few
more such and my work will be COM
plete!"
Cautiously she lifted herself to her
knees and peered through the keyhole
A moment thus, then, with a piercing
shrek, she fell back insensible.
jacques came hastily out, terror i'm
pressed on his countenance, and, lock-
ing the door behind him, bore her to her
home and laid her on her couch. Ten
derly he watched over her until she
opened her eyes; but never again was
she conscious.
In her wild dclrium she ravcd of the
days of her childhood-of beautiful
flowers and FLASHING rivulcts; but
aught of Jacques mingled not with her
incoherent murmurings.
On the tenth day she died; and the
same night came the news of Jacques
Lambert triumph. Truly, it was
wonderful picture, and filled all who
b9held it with awe and admiration.
1t was the Saviour on the Cross.
Blood was streaming from His side,
His hands and feet were fearfully lac
ented by the cruel nails, and His eyes
were turned toward heaven with such
look of patient suffering and agonized
meekness that they drew tears from
the eyes of all beholders. The lifeless
canvas seemed living, breathing re-
ality, and, with strained vision the
gazcr involuntarily listened for the
poor, parched tongue to repeat: Faith
er, forgive them; for they know not
what they dol"
One singularity, however, to the in
habitants of bort was that the counten-
ance seemed familiar, though at first
no one could tell when or where they
had seen one like it. Soon suggestion