St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-08-18

hours to suffer the utmost penalty of
the English law for the willful murder
of Harvey Winthrop.
"George Roman is my name, and
am, or was until few years ago, an ar
lists model. My father, my mother,
my sisters and brothers all got their liv
Ing in the same way. My grandfather,
Who was, | believe, a Hungarian gypsy,
used to boast in his old age-he lived to
reach his hundredth year-of having
sat to Sir Joshua Reynolds. The youth
who supports his dying brother on his
knees in the famous picture of 'UgolinO
IN the Dungeon was, he asserted, cap
days. Perhaps the gypsy blood have
our being a swarthy set of men and
women, dark-haired, keen-eyed, and
passionate of temper, though we were,
on the whole, an affectionate family. l
remember Stabbing my elder brother in
d quarrel when we were both lads; he
Had taken something that was mine and
denied the theft. How all became red
before my eyes for an instant, and how
[ saw nothing but the knife lying OH the
table before me; how grasped it and
struck! and the mist cleared away, and
he was lying bleeding-aH this l re-
member. l screamed out then, and was
sorry, and cried for joy when the doctor
said he was safe, he would not die. 1
guarded my temper after that; but the
instinct to revenge, the keen-edged
longing for a weapon to strike, wound,
kill with, has always risenupin me like
fire at wrong, or insult or injustice.
Il was model from my earliest
youth. and grew middle-aged under the
keen north light of my studio windows.
[ had served many artists, but as the
years went on ate the bread of one
alone, and that in the capacity of mes
Senger, cleaner, hOuSekeeper-many
things in one, and that one paid but
poorly; for the disease of smallpox had
stricken me down, crippled my joints
and robbed me of my loneliness, |
could no longer make a living as a
model. My master-for had no shame
to call him so-was handsome man,
and a fayorite among his comrades, but
a bad artist. His name was Harvey
Winthrop.
'He believed so firmly in his own
talent, and had such a bright, faScinat-
ing way with him, that he made him
self popular. His weak, poor pictures
were accepted before those of better
men, and almost always sold, though |
did not know then by whom they were
bought. l learned afterward that the
checks that came in payment for them
were all signed with one name, and
that a Woman's. Well, she had a right
to indulge her Whims, / suppose, and
Harvey Winthrop was one of them.
She was an evil. idle, wealthy, beautl-
full woman, no longer young, but with
destinations that few men OF Harvey
Winthrop's stamp could resist. She
made him her creature, and miniStered
to his luXuries while she hung her
rooms with his pictures, and spoke of
him as rising artist to great men who
frequented her notorious house. So
Harvey Winthrop prOSpered. ThiS has
nothing to do with the story, how
ever, except to weary those who
read it, and needs must that it be
finished-before the morning!
Harvey Winthrop had a friend-Ducie
Charities by name-WhO had in him all
the genius that my master lacked. l
have seen so many pictures In my day
that l have become something OF an art
iSt, l think; and calling at Mr. Chart
res' studio early one morning with a
message from my master, l was stand
ing spell-bound with admiration before
an'unfinished picture that stood upon
and caught me. Gree. the woman in
the picture was called, but have heard
that Gree was a wicked witch and Sor-
ceresS, and in the face that looked out
from the canvas there was no evil,
only a mysterious haunting look of
sorrow and longing. She stood
upon the steps Of a Greek
temple, holding a dripping torch
that burnt with a fierce stsll flame in
the MINDLESS hush of starlight SUM-
mers evening. At her feetlaya be auti-
full brown youth, naked except for a
covering of dappled fawn-skin, and
crowned with vine-leaves. A golden
cup wreatned with peoples had fallen
from his hand, his senses were drugged
with sleep, his white teeth showed be-
tween the faint crimson line of his
parted lips. One would have said he
dreamedof her. And the anguish-bit-
ten loneliness of the one and the prone
beauty of the other were thrown into
relief against background of time
worn marble, of purple sky, and solemn
mountains bearded with gray olive
groves and the rich darkness of cypress
forests.
1T was an idea taken from some great
poem, Mr.. Chartres told me, seeming
pleased at my admiration OF his work.
[ wondered whether the Gree had been
painted from one model, or whether
half a dozen had lent their several
beauties to her. The question was hes
itating on my lips when the door opened
and the woman herself came in.
''She was, if possible, more strangely,
pitifully beautiful than the woman in
the picture. l was old enough to be
her father. was poor, unkempt, thick
and slow of speech, disfgured by dis
ease, but / loved her. The passionate
Gypsy blood in me told me that by the
way it surged from head to heel and
back again at the mere sight of her, and
the sound of her voice. 1t was
useless, of course. She could choose
where she would among the gentlemen
who died with each other to secure her
services as a model. She must have
been wearied with lone, lust, admira-
ton, years before she looked it, you
understand! For, despite what the la
dies and gentlemen who write for the
papers and magazines keep telling the
public, virtue is the exception. not the
rule. among female models. How can it
be otherwise, poor things, looking at
their lie? 10 De sure, lily OWh oloteIo
came through the ordeal without harm,
but they we're no. beauties; and my
mother-rest her fierce old Soul.-kept
the rough side of her tongue and the
sharp glance of her eye for would-be
wooerS.
well. the model undraped and posed,
and Mr.. Charities set to work at his
picture. l fingered abont, as was my
way, doing odd jobs, cleaning bits of
armor, busting casts, china or bronZes.
and occasionally stealing a glance at
the girl. Several artists dropped in,
admired, criticised, and went their way.
Mr.. Winthrop. last of all made his APP
pearance. and Mr.. Chartres was glad to
welcome him.
SHE had not seen the picture before,
and it came as a surprise. He was not
much given to praising others genius.
because he occupied so much time in
wondering at his own; but even he was
startled into an outburt of genuine adj
.miration. As he stood before the cam
vas, ard looked from the figure OF the
woman on it to the figure of the living
model. noticed in a dull sort of way,
that his searching glance disturbed her.
First her eyelids dropped, then her