The Grenada gazette. (Grenada, Miss.) 1885-18??, 1889-06-20

1t to me-"
NO, I will make a small picture 70,
you"
And this one, what arc you going
to do with it:?'
ut is going to Paris, it will be pu
in a largo frame, it will be hung in d
grand salon and all the world will &c
to see it."
All yes, l know. at the exposi.
ton"
You know what that is?"
There have been artists here before
who painted pictures for the cxposi,
ton, as they said, but they never paint.
cd my portrait"
The day was drawing to a beautif full
close. The atmosphere had the soft,
delicate tones which had delighted
Maurice on the previous evening, and
his work advanced rapidly.
He painted on the picture afterward
in his studio. He determined to make
it his best work. Being already well
known, it was no longer necessary for
him to seek to make a name; never
thelcss he was certain that this pict-
ure would set the seal on his reDuta.
ton.
BY the time he had finished the pict-
ure to his satisfaction winter had come,
and Maurice was in love with his little
model.
He loved her too much to tell her o t
his love, too much to tear from her
native meadow this flower OF maiden
hood whom he could not make his
wife, but enough to suffer at the
thought Of parting from her. She had
naught that goes to the making Of
happiness in life, neither depth Of
sentiment, nor devotion, which makes
one forget all else, nor passion, which
excuses all things; she was simply a
pretty Hover Of the field. II little vain,
q little coqucttish, without either
grave faults or other virtues. Maurice
knew that she could be nothing to him,
yet he adored the beautiful outlines
OF her scarcely-dcvelopod form.
which the folds Of her coarse gown
chastoly cnveloped, yet could not all
conceal. He loved those deep eyes,
that smiling mouth, those yellow
t~resses, always in disorder, the little
handkerchief that crossed her bosom;
all these he loved. and it was with pain
he thought of parting from them.
One always parts with pain from what
he expects never again to see. 1t is
so hard to leave behind n a bit OF
ones life that he has no right to keep.
He had carried off her picture,
however. and before this he passed the
best hours of the winter, ceaselessly
laboring to perfect a work already
perfect.
The painting was greatly admired.
The critics were unanimous in their
enthusiasm, but they declared that
such a face could not exist except in
the mind OF a poet or in the lmagina-
ton OF a painter. Maurice listened to
all this with a smile, n kept to him
self the secret OF the sweet face that
had inspired him.
he received ilntterlng offers for his
picture. None of his previous paint
ings had commanded so high a price.
He declined to sell it; he also refused
to allow it to be engraved. AS he was
unable to possess the model OF the
picture, he was determined to keep the
latter.
1t was autumn when he returned to
the village where he had met the little
maid with the yellow hair. Since he
had painted her portrait, twice had the
bontires of st. Johns Eve e e the
bands OF joyous peasants dancing
0 the'n' ana as ne lhought OF the
young girl he shiIed sadly wondering
"hlcn ol Tue village rustlcs hao MADE
her HIS cho'ce'
HIS pilgrimage was to the forest OF
chestnuts. AS darkness comes quickly
on October evenings he fastened along
the forest walk but 1t was not yet
dark and the rays OF amber light still
travorSod the forest, falling upon the
leaves that trembled on their branches,
and upon those that rustled under his
feet. with the odor OF dead leaves
came a thousand regrets, sorrowful