The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-06-03
4THB PAINTER Or PARMA
Oh
The Magic Of a. Masterpiece
An italian Story OF Love, Mys-
terry and Adventure.
by sYLvANUs COBB. JR.
rCopyright 1888 by Mary j. Cobb.l
CHAPTER IX.-CoNTINUED.


CINNAMON took her by the arm and soon
lad her away. When himself and his ward
had been left alone together the Duke closed
+bo door and turned the key in the lock.
Thar he came back and sat down by the
aido Of the sofa, on which the Princess still
recined.
"Ol dear Duke!" she cried, reaching forth
har hand and grasping his wrist. What
was it Steffano saids Tell me--tell me
what has befallen-Zanonis"
"Dear child" returned Antonio, kindly,
INIT with an earnest, searching look into the
Dsia wan face. "If the painting of the
Ppicture should be stopped, would it give you
great disappointment"
owOi Guardiani What do you meana
What has happened! Speak, Tell mel You
are torturing me with suspense"
"Isabel,n he said, tenderly, yet with a
,rroat main Swallowed on his face, at the same
Fine taking her hand, what was this man
to You9 Tellme."
His voice quivered, and he experienced a
sense of shame as he thought of the inten-
tional deceit his language was meant to
conyey-his speaking of the man in the past
tense
And the blow struck home. "What was
this man to youa" rang in her ears, and sank
" a 90 he p is deadl dead deadl My love,
nv herol Yes, loved himl loved himl
He was all the world to mel My all Of life,
Of love, and Of joyp
Then with a sharp, wild cry, she started
to her feet and caught her guardian by the
arm, elaring at him with a fierce, flaming
fire in her eyes.
"Ol Steffano has killed himl Steffano has
1,;I1ad hip,I lie II NOT SOm
Isabel What in the name of wonder
are YOU thinking Of? Steffano kill him |
How could such a ridiculous fancy enter
you mind?"
30! not so ridiculous as you Think" she
retorted, growing stronger under the infu-
ence of her wrathful feelings toward the
MARQUIS. "Did you know that he attacked
Zanoni yesterday and drew his sword
against him2 and that Henri Vavallia and
drag him awayw
Isabel What are you telling meG Who
told you that storyf'
Himself, Juan Zanoni And this even
ing Henri and Paulo told it again, and they
pictured the wickedness Of the deed blacker
than did he. Of Steffano hated him with q
deadly hatred. But care not now. Only
tell me, did he, Steffano, do it?'
Isabel, my child. o, pardon me.
Zanoni is not dead. He is not even hurt
1t was a plot to discover if you loved the
plebeian painter. o, my soul! my soul
How shall get over thiss What can say!
What can dogn
He would have spoken further, but the
Princess, as soon as she could comprehend
the situation, had given utterance to burst
of thankfulnesS and sank back upon the
sofa, seeming, for the moment, about to
faint again. But she did not utterly sink,
though she was terribly shaken.
As for the Duke, mis- condition of mind
was by no means happy one. What to
do, what to say, he scarcely knew. Should
he wait until the Princess had become
Stronger9 He arose from his seat and took a
turn across the room. He came back,
paused few seconds, and then crossed to
and fro again, and this he repeated thrice.
Then he resumed his seat and took the girls
hand He had duty to perform, and he
would perform it, let the cost be what it
might. Yet his heart was not in the work.
The events Of his childhood, and even those
OF his youth and early manhood, had served
to make him tender and lenient toward
those below him in rank, with a opposition
to take men for what they were worth
rather than for the accident of their birth.
He could not forget that the enemies of his
house-of his father and his mother-had
been all, every one of them, of the
patrician order, while those who had proved
friends, stanch and true, had been plebian
almost to man. 1t had been the people
against class. Aye, and at the present
moment he knew that the people of Parma
were his friends. They loved him and
blessed him. Had there been as large pro-
portion of the plebeian class false to him at
heart as he knew there was of the MOBILES he
would have felt his scepter insecure.
Again he had Gonna t0 Iowa tho handsOnno
pure-minded painter. Take them, man
against man, and Zanoni stood TO Count
Denaro as Hyperion to Satyr! AS hus-
psnd for Isabel di Varona, had he been but
noble, he had never known the man to
whom he would rather give her than TO
Juan Ianoni. But that could not be.
Isabel, he said, with rich moisture in
MS eye and a sympathetic culver in his
voice, at the same time taking one Of her
hands In warm, paternal grasp, II must
say 10 you few words before we separate.
nave only myself to blame for what has
happened. l should have thought Of many
Cnlngs That l suffered to escape me.
ought to have remembered Zanoni's beauty,
us grand character. his surprising intel
lect, and, above all else, his magnetic
presence.
Then, too, should have remembered
your orphaned childhood, your great
opacity LOT love, your yearnlng Tor friend
onP and the years you have passed with
10 heart all your own save only mine, and
- WIN my cares of state, have left you well
anlsn to yourself. Ali l should have
snought OF this when sent you to Zanoni's
0OqGlo-lnto his companionship
put, Isabel, you must be brave. You
liuSI remember the rank you hold, the
onarscter you bear. In one sense you are
10y representative-the representative of
oI ir dlcal house. Were you to unite your
s9ll with plebeian the result would be a
snocS TO our whole social system And you
could not marry here. Our laws would
Event 1t; You would be obliged to flee,
. ellu l need not tell you what a calamity
T T9uG would be. Isabel, you will give it up.
- mere must be asacrifice | believe you are
.fual 10 IT, | would bear it if l could, but
euaC may not be- The ordeal must be your
o"h-tne victory yours-and, in the time to
'OIIle, the reward will be yours
ne paused here, but tho girl made no re-
sponSe. She sat with folded hands, her
nsad bowed, Der bosom heaving. and ever
S Slu anon sigh--a moan of anguish-burst
again: y VIZ 'fO''0
Isabel, what more can saw / can only
fr rOe more implore you to tear this love
iIon your heart--n
vi, as those words fell upon her ears a con.
tuisIVe shudder shook her from head to
~ o., ana cry Of sharpest agony burst
from her lips
vo,, my Lordl my father!-for / know
go sy9 loYe me well-you ask me TO kill my
con 1 cannotl Of | cannot! When you