The Indianapolis sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis, Ind.) 1880-1904, 1885-02-01

grateful blessings; or must we water
your path with our tearsg''
81 don't want to have parcel of beg
gars for my grandchildren" said Gianet-
TIM. roughly.
Certainly, you are rich,' replied the
young man; "but what binders that |
should not become so, too? A stout arm,
brave heart, an honest soul, will, with
the help of heaven, do much"
"a fools dreaml'
may" said Antonio, "it is sober
sense. Prince Lorenzo Medici was
merchant; Duke Diacomo Storza a cow
herd"
The man In the corner had hearkened
attentively to this dialogue. He rose,
and touching Barbarigo's shoulder, said:
well spoken, gondolier! Courage
brings success, and struggling, conquest.
Maria shall be thy wife,
"Neverl" cried Gianettini.
"Well," said the unknown, turning
disdainfully toward him, IF this youth
could lay down 500 pistoles, would you
object TO the MARRIAGE
BE that as il may, you must remem-
Der that he is now little better than .
pauper."
"Pshawl" said the unknown; "bab.
blers are more tiresome thar thieves.
Before tomorrow you shall handle that
sum"
So saying he drew from his pocket a
piece of parchment and crayon, and,
turning toward a table began rapidly to
sketch mans hand. 1t was represented
open, impatient, with followed palm, as
if expecting shower of golden pieces.
1t had, so to speak, sensual, avaricious
expression, and one of the fingers was
encircled with massive ring.
Its my handw cried Gianettini.
"And your history" said the artist
Giving the sketch to Antonio, TIN
author desired him to carry it TO Pietro
Benvolo, librarian at the palace of st.
Mark, and demand in exchange for it
600 pistoles.
six hundred fools headsw cried the
inn-keeper. IL would not give zee
chin for itl'
Without speaking the artist turned
haugbtily away.
The gondolier took the parchment, and
looked with establishment at Its guise.
He then turned doubtfully to Maria,
but a glance from her soft dark eyes
treasured him, aud he sat out on his
mission.
With folded arms and a moody brow
the artist commenced pacing up and
down the large room of the hosiery,
casting at intervals scrutinizing
| glance on the young girl, who, now
penitent for her intended crime, was
| silently praying In a corner. As for
S1ianettini, he seemed unable to shake
| of the strange ascendency gained over
| nim by his unknown visitor; his habitual
effrontery failed him; and for the first
| time in his life he dared not break ST.
| lence.
An hour passed. Then hasty, joyous
| steps were heard, and Antonio appeared
bearing in hand a bag and letter. The
bag contained 600 pistoles, and the letter
was addressed to the artist, and prayed
| him to honor the Librarian with visit.
Take these coins and weigh them. y
said the unknown, as he threw the bag
toward Gianettini.
Antonio Barbarigo stood before his
benefactor, pale and trembling with joy.
| Zone favor more, he SAID, VINO are
your
"What does it matter?"
| "What does it matterl say your
cried the gondolier.
much, much to mel Tell me your
name, signor, that L may love and honor
it TO the last moment of my life"
| MEN call me Michael Angelo"
As to the crayon sketch of the miser's
hand, it was taken from Italy by a
soldier in Napoleon's army and placed
in the Louvre. During the invasion OF
1914, it was unfortunately lost, and, SO
far as can be ascertained, has never been
recovered. The story of its production,
however, still fingers among the tradi'
tons of Venice.