San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-05-30
The Handsome Orlando
TRANSLATED From ThD FRENCH OF OLE
WEIR CHANTAL BY BENZ. r. TUCKER.

do, but not talking.
Teresa was arranging her work, and
Ferucci was vaguely looking at it.
at makes a good effect, that shade of
red mixed with white" said he
"They are stockings" explained Te-
reSa.
MY dear" said Monteforte, laughing,
"we shall have enough to stock ware
house when we like. Everybody in the
family knits."
"Oh! murmured Teresa, III a tone of
reproach, these stockings are not for
the house. ! am making dozen pair
for NJ. Ferucci."
The old painter looked at her in aston
ishment.
what! these are for me?"
Yes" said she. And look! Five
pairs done already
But they are very pretty" said Or
lando. Take, then, directly those that
are Finished"
Teresa proudly wrapped them up in
The Gazzetta di Napoli. Ferucci dreamed
COntcntedIy.
she was thoughtful of him. She had
invited him; since then he, the lonely
one, the son of Annunziatella, the artist
with the wOrkman's fingers, the poor,
unbalanced d~vOtpc of inaccessible art,
had had a family.
She was kind; formerly, he remem-
bnrcd, they thought her homely; they
called her the little spider, the sorceress.
But size was no longer the Teresa of
those days. She was pretty now. Her
thinness had Disappeared; from her ca
meIlia white flesh her clear eyes shone
with 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 a childs 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 fine smile played over his with
cred lips; he had hit upon it.
My children, l am a 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:
I've will accompany you if you are
tired, Monsieur Ferucci. Where do you
live"
The artist looked at her few moments;
he hesitated. Then at last, shaking his
head, with little bitterness:
mo, my child, it is useless to accom-
pany me-"
And very softly he added, for himself
alone:
Il do not live"
lllS SluIle vi leIlucI pIOleCIlOu Cdule
back to his lips as he said:
Good night, Donna Teresa. A hun
drcd years of happiness"
Good night, Monsieur Ferucci; the
Madonna be with yOu!" said she.
MOntefOrte followed him to the door.
Il am going down with you, old
friend"
no. said the bohemian, stay with
your dear and good little wife. Have
you noticed how pretty she is growing?
Twas looking at her this evening; pearl
my dear boy! And good! The soul of
an angel! Till tomorrow, Montefortew
Pretty! Teresa.
Orlando repeated his friends word in
surprise.
When he re-entered the studio, Teresa.
bent under the lamp and perched like a
child upon the arm of chair, was turn
ing over the leaves of a picture book and
smiling, showing her white teeth with
that beautiful Italian smile which con-
traSts with the melancholy of the eyes.
Then, as he contemplated this artleSs
pleasure, this feminine grace, thoughts
and memories crowded thickly upon him.
Something hitherto closed was opening
in his heart; the careless boy suddenly
made way for the man, with his pro-
found eomprehrnsions, bringing an en-
tIrely new emotion.
She laughed innocencly at the painted
images. He started
One after another he counted the real
izationS that had come to him through
her. without any effort on his part to de-
Snrrn thn1nn m.ithnmt my rnlnntnrr 70