Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1885-09-13

Meanwhile. ss she slipped her coffee q
conscious that for her was reserved al ho
or to which many q selEasserting beau
had in vain aspired, he whose artists e.
bad from the 6rst rested with more tbs
satisfaction on her face, was assuring hir
self with growing delight that chance ha
thrown in his path q type perfect in itsel
for which he might long have searched
vain. Roes face was not one which wo1l
attract attention from an ordinary observer
il had nore ofthat yivscity or ooquetry {
expression which Frenchmen most admir-
IL possessed no art Of glance or smile;
, was face perfect in repose as it would
Perfect in death-the pure mirror of pur
soul
That such in q peasant shout
puzzle any one who paused to think wa
but natural Whence that small head, o.
which the dark-groEing hair was platte
and fastened somewhat high behind with q
comb; whence those straight, delicate feat
Urss. those dreamy eyes?-s face so asst
cal that neither trouble, illness, nor az
WCu d alter lis pure outlines, characteristic
which a. cident or malignant disease slon,
might dttsee.
Ye, would not have your picture q
Greek goddess in this sun-burned village
maiden; think of her as in a short rough
ssirt sid bodice over her cosrse linen
Chsmise. Think Of her pstois tongue and
Der work-s-dsy hands, and remember that
an artists eye alone discovered what hs:
B. yond.
a run down to the forest for the pleas.
Ire Of seeing you, my friend, and the artist
bowed to the officer, who seized his hand
and shock it cordially, and for the sake OF
q breath OF country air after vanishing
day; and by What would seem the merest
chance in the world your village offers one
8 type that it is impossible to pass unno-
ticed. Tell me, child, will you sit for me
l will pay you well; you will earn more than
If you sold all the flowers of the forest"
Alas, Moneieur, that ! should refuse you
anything, you who have been so good to
me; but / cannot become painter model;
my grandparents would turn me from their
home"
"A painters model! How came you
ever to hear the phrsseY
Ny mother was one, answered Zoe
simply, but she died before | could re-
member her. Ny father and she was good,
and l believe him, but my grandmother
says i, is i'm possible, because the priest told
her 90. But he never say my mother, and
my grandmother never would, so how can
they know We never talk OF it. Ny mother
was well born and came from country far
of; she loved mY father because he was
honest and manly, though be was but SOL
der aud a peasant son But since have
seen that picture could never be painter s
L odel
What picture, my child?
a picture in the Salon, Monsieur"
What, you have been to the SALON.
Yes, Monsieur. It was two years ago,
when we were better Of for my grandfather
had not been i'll and out of work as this
winter.
Bot a'out the Salon, tell me of Jour
whit here
1t was to see ore picture only, Monsieur,
that We went
Only one
'I's Monsieur
Ard that cDc-Whst was itY
Tie portrait Of General DumesDil y
! new light appeared in the artists keen
e. es. . To him, TO whom the worlds hon.
8. and the praise of Princess we're custo'
mary, never had Indirectly tribute more
fiatterirg been paid. Fame had come to
him uneourted, for he.worked for the love Of
arr. and not as some for The sake of reputa-
tion-aud never had fame seemed sweet to
him as at this moment. HIS companion
murmGred some expressions OF surprise, but
the artist raised his hand with a significant
book, "Chut, mon ami. Now, my child
proceed; tell us Of your visit, end above
all Why you went to see that picture only.
well, Monsieur, it happened thus. My
father was q soldier and served under Gen
ersl Dumesuil in Algeria; his love and de-
yotion for the General filed his letters 10
my grandfather. On one occasion, at his
own peril, be rendered the General per-
soual service. After the battle, in which
my father Tell, one of his comrades wrote to
nv grandfather with the news. At the end
OF the letter were these words: It is not
given to ali to die fighting for their country;
OF that honor your son was worthy-Du-
mesniL' These words my grandfather
would read over and over every day; they
seemed to be the only things that COM
forted him At last the paper was wearing
out. aud be determined to have 1t framed.
Not for one moment though would he part
with it out of his sight. 1t was years ago,
but l remember how he gave up several
hours work and took me with him to the
shop where be sat while the process Of
mounting and framing was gone through
bsfore him. Two years ago
nv grandfather heard that great painter,
Mr.. La Crosse, had painted a portrait OF
General Dumesnil, and that it was to be
seen in Paris, He said that we must 90,
nv grandmother, be and |, to see it. So
one Sunday in May we went to Paris.
When we reached the Salon there was a
great crowd, and we had to fall in the line
and stand patiently for long time, moving
only q step every now aud then till at last
we reached the door. Inside masses OF
people were going up a staircase. When
we reached he top We were bewildered-
there seemed to be thousands Of pictures.
My GRANDPA her asked an official to direct
us 10 the portrait Of General Dumesail, out
the man shrugged his shoulders and turned
on his heel A gentleman who was
standing By turned to Us kindly.
You will find that picture, be
said, looking in a book, in the eighth
room, number 924.' Such was the crowd
we could advance but slowly; but until We
found it, my grandfather would stop to look
at no other picture. There were great
many country folks ike ourselves among
the fine people, and yet many eyes turned
to look at my grandfather with his white
hair"
Il would wager they we're looking al
the granddaughter, aud we're she half a
woman she would own it, laughed the Of
fcer, in spite Of frown from Is Crosse.
Zoe paused; she had not understood the
rapid bit OF Partisan, but for the first time
she gazed shyly at the officer. Monsieur
says she asked.
Nothing" answered Ls Crosse "Con
Gnue, my child"
ayes Monsier So AZ Last We stood be-