The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1890-08-08

noticed her.
Whatever others might say, he did not
take seriously the emotion that caused
her to faint at that time in his arms. He
attributed this illness to the heat of the
day.
AS he lived very near the Rienzis',
Monteforte went to the studio almost
every day in order to learn something.
The young master had taken him into
his friendship, as did all those who be-
came acquainted with this honest fellow.
The lovesick Teresa profited by this
godsend, and went also every afternoon
to see the Frenchwoman.
And that without false shame and
without scruples; for jealousy had al
ready mingled with her love, adding
fresh fuel to the already raging fire.
She wanted to distance Rosa Falcone.
The latter, she thought, must often meet
the young man at his fathers.
In which, however, she was mistaken,
exaggerating the danger.
Orlando stayed in the house so little
that he scarcely knew his fathers friends;
and as for the pupils. who were not very
numerous, he did not see them. His
father had never permitted himself to
be disturbed during his lessons, which
were either gratuitous or paid for at
very high prices.
Without any doubt Rosa would will
ingly have married this honest, hand
some fellow. She even thought of it
very frequently, but she allowed no one
fn fhic onH %l,o,
Teresa, less spoiled, or, to speak plainly,
better brought up, Rosa rarely visited
the Frenchwoman, and never knew with
certainty at what moment Orlando was
to be found there.
The Rienzis took care to use their in
fiuence in neither direction. Young as
they were, they already knew many
things, and said to each other that pru-
dence and equity required them to re-
main neutral. No one has right to
deprive person of his dream in order to
create another's happiness.
And then Nine. de Rienzi, though alone
in this, was unconsciously getting at
tached to Teresa. This young girl moved
her by the somewhat savage depth of
her love for Orlando and by her sincere
impulses of friendship.
How various the sensations in events
outwardly similar! AS Balzac has said,
"The heart is full of storms" This
nervous girl was shaken by passion. She
exhausted herself in struggling in the
void, jealous of everything, weeping in
her efforts to awaken something in her
favor in the soul of Orlando, who saw
nothing or was unwilling to see any
thing.
He especially shrank from the raillery
of his friends, or was somewhat exasper-
ated when he saw how vain it was to
deny.
Not ON his own account, but he did not
wish her to be compromised, for he did
not feel that he should ever have courage
enough to sacrifice his independence by
marrying her.
Consequently he avoided her, greatly
embarrassed, very weary of the role that
he was playing; for there was nothing
of the Don Juan in the poor Monteforte.
Teresa did not weary. She never gave
up hope of winning him. To accom-
plish that, what was necessary? Per-
haps to find herself alone with him at |
some time. Chance came to her aid |
She learned one day that Orlando would |
spend the next day in painting on the
terrace. The Rienzis were to be at Naples |
a portion of the day; so he would be alone |
Teresa pretended not to have heard.
But the next day, toward 3 o'clock,
she arrived with a smile upon her lips,
and she went directly upon the terrace,
where the artist was at work.
Teresa assumed a most innocent air,
and, approaching the painter with ad-
mirably feigned surprise, she said:
"What, you are at Portici, NJ. Monte
forte? And since when?"
''Since this morning, mademoiselle. I
am painting group of singers, with the
fir trees of the Palazzo Reale as back
ground"
"Oh, should be very sorry to disturb
you, Don Orlando; know what that is.
Pay no attention to me. am waiting
for signora."
The artist bowed and resumed his
place. From time to time he blinked his
eyes to observe the tops of the trees over
the balustrade. And placing few
touches, Strengthening back his head or
holding it to one side to better see the
effect, he spread new colors on his pa
lette and mixed them, carefully seeking
delicate shades. He still surveyed the
landscape, and then fixedly, coquettishly
returned to his canvas.
To tell the truth, he was. posing little,
just very little. His ideas were no
longer on his sketch.
Doubtless he still thought of her as the
little spider. Teresa was scarcely seduc-
tive to him. In the presence of others
he would have blushed at this game.
But there, alone with her-oh, we'll!
He was not annoyed at producing an
impression, for, in fact, she was wom-
an, after all. And, besides, if he pleased
her he certainly could not reproach him.
self, for he had done nothing to inspire
this passion, about which there was so
much talk. After all, it is flattering to
be loved without effort, even by the
ugliest.
Teresa, modestly seated apart, had
chosen her place in such a way that she
could see him quite at her ease, and then
be seen if, perchance, he rested from his
work.
Really this work absorbed him very
much, and, just heaven! for what results?
But he was accomplishing what he de-
sired; that is, making fine spectacle of
himSalf