The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-06-08

cane his equal by this sweet eoanrade.
ship, happy at his dear presence and al
the things which she could not under
/ stand except By alteration.
Tie happiness Of Che Humble, and hap
( piness worthy OF respect.
But her Orlando knew nothing of all
this. As we have said, he was as uncon-
scious as q god, but as a mereifnl god,
/ who would in any case pour forth happy
INVESTIGATION.
The germ Of all happiness is within us.
Only the ray Of vital sunlight must come
from another.
Teresa, poor cllildl bethought herself
of q machiavelic fuse.
That evening during which they had
not disdained her little ignorant person
all ready to learn by listening carefully
that evening became q luminous mem
DRY; she dreamed Of repeating it, once,
often, alwaysl
! And noticing that Ferucci was older,
moro broken and poorer than ever, she
said to her husband, in a fine impulse of
charity mingled with hope for herself:
Husband Of mine, suppose you ask
M. Ferucci to take supper with us every
| evening. You know--before going to
the cafe. | think that would give him
pleasure"
The robust Orlando lifted his wife in
his arms like a child.
Good little onel' he cried, kissing
her. 81 will tell him this very evening. .
And the next day Ferucci, the bohe-
milan, became sure of his supper every
night, though it was sometimes his only
meal.
But Teresa, TOO, had the reward of her
effort. Her husband went out more.
He was so comfortable at home
Teresa busted her fingers with some
lace work while ohe listened to them.
The two artists sometimes were silent;
then Orlando began a love song or bar
carole.
And spring came, and then summer.
In the peace of the evenings, with the
windows open to all the breezes and all
the perfumes, she felt that she was wrap
ped in hope and serenity.
And in the family they feted the adored
despot when they had the daily happi-
ness of hearing Teresa's phrase, as in
variable as the love of her faithful heart:
'sAhi love him so much, my Or
landol''
Now these were the light nights of
July, like the days of the northern coun-
tries. The three friends were in the stu
dio, but not talking.
Teresa was arranging her work, and
Ferucci was vaguely looking at it.
1T makes a good effect, that shade of
red mixed with white, said he.
.They are stockings" explained Te-
resa.
MY DEAR" said Monteforte, laughing,
1--WE shall have enough to stock a ware
house when we like. Everybody in the
family knits. "
"OhF' murmured Teresa. in tone Of
reproach, ..these stockings are not for
the house. [ am making dozen pairs
for NJ. Ferucci.
The old painter looked at her in aston
ishment.
WHAT these are for neg'
Yes" said she And lookl Five
pairs done alreadyl9
''But they are very pretty" said Or
lando. '.Take, then, directly those that
are finished .
Teresa proudly wrapped them up in
The Gazzettadi Napoli. Ferucci dreamed
contentedly.
This young woman! She was kind,
she was thoughtful of him. She had
invited him; since then he, the lonely
one, the son of Annunziatella, the artist
with the workmans fingers, the poor,
unbalanced deyotee Of inaccessible art,
had had a family.
She was kind; formerly, he remem-
bered, they thought her homely; they
called her the little spider, the sorceress.
But she was no longer the Teresa of
those days. She was pretty now. Her
thinness had disappeared; from her ca
mellia white flesh her clear eyes shone
with o charming expression.
And love, generous thoughts, forget
fulness of self, had ennobled this face;
she kept her astonished, timid candor,
the gentleness of submissive and very
good children.
Her face was beautiful; but she bad
another beauty which came from a
deeper source, from the heart. And
then she had child's form, little and
supple, an exquisite body made for Ca
resses.
Ferucci asked himself what service he
could render her in exchange for the
happiness she had dreamed of for him
and found.
His look turned in the direction of Or
lando, who was leaning out towards the
street, still full of hustle and noise.
Then a fine smile played over his with
cred lips he had hit upon it.
My children, am little tired to-
night; am going to leave you.'
Teresa thought that her husband would
accompany him, for it was early; doubt
less he would remain at the cafe. Why
should she not follow them?
Then, with her most persuasive voice:
''We will accompany you if you are
tired, Monsieur Ferucci Where do you
liver
The artist looked at her few moments;
he hesitated. Then at last, shaking his
head, with little bitterness:
NO, my child, it is useless to accom-
pany me-"
And very softly ha added fo,. hin,calf