The morning call., 1890-10-15
HAND AND HEART.

S&s enveloped in long /, black ,'l. mantle tI
aSA was walking toward the bridge Of the
Rialto in Venice. Her steps were weak and
uneven, and at intervals she looked around
with hurried frightened glance. She
paused on the center of the bridge and
looked down with a shudder on the clear,
blue waters of the Adriatic; then closing
her eyes and murmuring family, "Antonio!
my Antonio! Adleu" she prepared to throw
herself over the parapet. just as she was
falling man rushed forward, seized her
with a powerful grasp, and drawing her
back, said Girl! destroy not thy life
which Providence has given thee. If you
are unhappy, enter your church, kneel on
its hallowed pavement, pour out your sor-
row and thank your Maker that you have
been preserved from crlme-irom rushing
uncalled into his presencs!
The girl impatiently tried TO shake off the
strong, kind hand that held ntr, and SAID:
- Let me 60! l must die!'
In another moment she tottered and fell to
the ground, where she lay without sense or
motion. Her preserver raised her head and,
in order to give ner air, drew back the veil
which concealed her features. They were
very lovely, and the man gazed on her with
wonder and admiration as she was gradually
By degrees she told him who she was and
where she lived. Her history might be
summed up in q few words-an avallclons
father, poor lover, mutual but unhappy
love.
Vainly did Maria plead with her father,
rich inn-keeper of Venice, the cause OF her
lover, Antonio Barbarigo, the handsome
gondolieI plying beneath the Brldge OF Signs.
At length, this evening her father, Glanet-
tint. forgot himself SO far as 10 strike his
daughter with some violence; and she, with
more culpabe neglect OF her duty, ran
wildly from home, and as we have seen, was
arrested just On the verge oil committing
suicide.
The person who had saved her led her
gently 10 her hume, and having given her
u to her father, seated himself IN an OBJ
scure corner. of the hosiery. Glanettnl re-
ceived his child with rude reproaches, aud
bidding her retire 10 her own apartment ana
betake herself to her Spinning, he cast
suspicious glance at the person who had
brought her home. whose stout, manly
figure and firm c0untenance, however, dt-
TERED the inll-keeper ion addressing hlm III
a hostile manner.
dolier approached at the door, and turhveiy,
approaching her said: Dearest. dearest"
uianettnl rushed forward, Shouting:
out OF this! out Of ny house, 1ellow!'
The young man did not sur.
Lave you tnished?" he said in good
humored tone. Wherefore these hard
words? Have you never loved, SiSnor Gil
anettni? Have you totally forgotten The
feelings of your youth? Know you not that
sInce was 10 gears old ana Maria we have
loved each other Iond.y? WIN you rot,
then, allow US 10 hallow your CID ase with
our tears?'
Il don't want to have parcel of beggars
for uly children, said Glanettini, roughly.
"Beggars" replied the young man. You
surely forget yourself"
Not /. indeei," returned the father, Il
refuse my CONSENT Therefore, get you
| gone"
but hear me for one moment" pleaded
| the gundoiler.
"'Iis useless. l again repeat that such
| as you Shall never wed my daughter. our
position Is tJo mean.'
Certainly, yea are ricn," replied the
| young man, but what binders tuat l should
| not become So, too? a stout arm, 4 brave
| heart, All honest sonl, VIII, with the help OF
| beav, n, do much.
"a fools dIeam."
Nay" said Antonio. sit is sober sense
| Prince Lorenzo de Medici was merchant;
Duke GlacomO Sforza cowberd.
The man in the corner had hardened at
tentively to the dlalo 1ue. He rose and
| touching Barbarigo's shoulder said: We'll
| spoken, Z, ndoier! Courage brings success
and struggles conquest. Maria snail be thy
wife,
Never" cried GianettiEi.
| Master Jew" SAID the unknown. turning
disdaiufully towatds him, IF this youth
could lay down 600 plsto.es would you OBJ
| ject 10 the marrldge?
| BE that us 1t may, you must remember
! that lie is now little better than pauper"
| "Psbaw!' said the unknown; 'btbblers
are more tiresome than thieves. Before to-
| morrow YOU shall handle that sum-"
So saying he drew from his pocket piece
| of parchment and crayon, and turning 10
ward il table began rapidly to sketch mans
hand. Ii was represented open, impatient
| with hollow palm, as ii expecting a shower
! Of vnli nj. had a n
| suous, avaricious expression; and one of
| the fingers was enclrcled with q massive
ring"
Ills my hand" c-ied GIanettini.
/" And your hist0 y said the artist.
Givirgg Inc sketch to Antonio, its author
desi-Lz9 him to carry it to Petro Benvols.
| i.orarlan at the Palace of ST. Marks and de-
| mand III exchange for 1t 600 pistoes.
"Six hundred fools heads? cried the
inn-keeper. 81 would not give Zecchln for
! it."
Without speaking the artist turned
haughtly away.
The gondoler took tie parchment and
looked with establishment at its guise. He
then turned doubtfully toward Maria; but
glance from her soft dark eyes treasured
him, and lie set out on his mission.
With folded arms and moody brow the
artist commenced pacing up ana down the
large room in the hosiery, casting at inter-
walls scrut1ulzns glance on the young girl,
who now, penitent for her intended crime,
WIS silently praying In corner. As for
Gianettini, he seemed unable to shake off
the strange asceIdency gained over him by
his unknown visitor; his habitual effr0nt-
ely failed him, and, for the first time i'll his
| lie, he dared not break silence
| An hour passed. Then hasty, joyous steps
were heard, and Antonio appeared, bearing
in his hand bag and letter. The bag
contained 600 pistoles, and tile letter was
addressed to the artist, and prayed him to
honor the Senator with visit.
Take these coins and weigh them" said
the unknown, as he threw the bag toward
Ghnettini.
Antonio Barbarigo stood before his bene-
factor, pale aud trembling with JOY.
Zone favor more" he said. who are
youP
'What does it matter?"
"What does it matter, say you?" cried the
gondolier; "much-much to NE! Tell me
your name, sigDor, that l may love and
honor it TO the last moment of my llfe."
"Men call me Michel Angelo. 1t is my
turn now" he said, ito ask you favor. 1t
is to allow ME to perpetuate on canvas the
lovely features OF Maria"
The girl approached, she could not speak,
but she casped the painters hand ana raised
it to her lips. A tear fell on it, and Michel
Angelo, as he drew back, turned away to
| conceal his own emotions.
Twenty years pass on and found An
tonic, tine once humble g0udOlier, the happy
husband of Maria and General Of the Venc-
tian republic. Yet bis brilliant position
never rendered hun uBmindful Of his earl
life, and his heartfelt gratitude, as well as
that of his wife, accom- panied Michel An
gelo Buonarotti 10 the end Of his DAYS.
AS to the crayon sketjh OF the miser's
hand, it was taken from ltlly by a soldier
in Napoleon's army and placed in the Lou
vre. During the invasion Of 1914 it was un-
fortunately lost, and, so far as can be as.
certained, has never since been recovered
The story OF its production, however. still
fingers among the traditions of Venice
lewis Cohen.