Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1889-05-20

model
He loved her too much to ten her of
his love. too much e tear from her ma
tive meadow this flower OF maidenhood
whom he could not make his wife. but
enough to suffer at the thought Of part
ing from her. She had naught that goes
10 the making Of happiness in life, neither
depth of sentiment, nor devotion which
makes one forget all else, nor passion
which excuses ell things; she was simply
pretty flower Of the field, q little vain,
little coQuettish. without either grave
faults or great virtues. Maurice knew
that she could be nothing to him, yet he
adored the beautiful outlines Of her
scarcely developed form, which the folds
Of her coarse gown chastely enveloped
yet could not all conceal. He loved those
deep eyes, that smiling mouth. thoseyel-
low tresses, 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 al
ways parts with pain from what he ex-
poets never again to see. It is SO hard to
leave behind one bit Of ones life that
he has no right to keep
He had carried off her picture, how
ever, and before this he passed the best
hours of the winter ceaselessly laboring
to perfect work already perfect.
The painting was greatly admired.
The critics were unanimous In their en-
thusiasrn, but they declared that such q
face could not exist except in the mind
of poet or in the Imagination of pain.
ter. Maurice listened to all this with
smile and kept to himself the secret Of
the sweet face that had inspired him.
He received hattering offers for his
picture; none Of his previous paintings
had commanded SO high price; he de-
clined 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.
It 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
bonfres Of st. Johns Eve seen the bands
Of joyous peasants dancing about them,
and as he thought of the young girl he
smiled sadly, wondering which of the
village rustics had made her his choice
His first pilgrimage was to the forest
of chestnuts. As darkness comes quick.
~ on October evenings, he hastened
along the forest walk; but it was not yet
dark and rays Of amber light still trav
ersed 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 memories
and bitter thoughts which filled him
with unspeakable sadness, with greater
distaste for life than he had ever before
experienced.
When he reached the glade he seated
himself in the same place where two
years before he had sketched the picture
which had crowned his fame. The cold
stone on which he sat seemed to mock
all his tender feelings.
"A peasant coquettel She would
have loved me had wished it,, he said
to himself. "Others like her have loved
artists and followed them to Paris, where
they have disappeared beneath the foam
of the sea Of life which surges through
the grea1 city, without cumbering with
bonds those who introduced them into
the world Of art and intellect. He is q
fool who sacrifices to his dreams, to an
idea, the good things Of this world, the
love of woman, the glory which talent
brings, the opportunity which leads to
success"
While he thus renounced the gods of
his youth, he saw approaching him, over
the well known path, the girl who had
been his model now large young
woman. She was not alone; peasant
walked beside her, holding her by the
hand; he was handsome fellow, strong
and well built, and well-to-do for one Of
his class. He leaned toward her, and
from time tostfme kissed d tear from her
cheek.
When they saw Maurice they paused,
confused and surprised.
And this, he thought, Is the girl Of
whom have dreamed"
But he took pity on her when, In
voice Of sighs, she said to him:
They do not wish as to marry. am
poor, he is well off, and his mother does
not want me for daughter-in-law: she
even talks of disinheriting him"
And you, you do not wish to be dis
inheritedY Maurice said ironically to the
young man.
Why, one must liveg"
sThat is true. am sorry for you, my
children
They departed. Maurice, when left to
himself, took his head between his hands
and thought for q long time.
Hia ideal was DESTROYED IN fI,fa wrnrx,rp