The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1891-05-29


tremely Just, and much to the Loint?"
'Oh, they say that negroes have the
face of an ape and the tongue of par
rot" rejOined GOnzalo, in tone of in
difference.
"With this distinction" observed Fer
dinand, that the parrot repeats by rOte,
while Sebastian has Judgment in his re-
marks"
Like the parrot, by chance" return
ed GOnzalO.
"Who knows" said Mcndez, who had
not digested the Naples yellow, that
from grinding the cOlors, he may one
day astonish us by showing he knows
one from anOtheT?"
"TO know one color from another and
how to use them are two different af-
fairs" replied Sebastian, who was
allowed to join in the conversation of
the pupils, and the truth Obliges us to
confess that his taste was so exquisite,
his eye so correct, that many of them did
not disdain to follow the advice he fire.
quently gave them.
| Although they sometimes amused
themselves by teasing the little mulatto,
he was great favOrite with them all,
and this evening on quitting the studio,
each gave him friendly tap on the
shoulder, counseled him to keep a close
watch and catch the ZOmbi for fear of
the lash.
CHAPTER IL,
1t was night, and the STUDIO of Murillo,
the most celebrated painter in Seville
this studio, which during the day was so
cheerful animated-was now silent as
the grave.
A single lamp burned upon the marble
table, and q young boy, whose sable hue
harmonized with the surrounding dark
ness, but whose eyes sparkled like two
diamonds. leaned against an easel. I'M
movable and still, he was so deeply alb
sorbed in his meditations that the door
of the studio was opened by one who
several times called him by name, and
who, on receiving no nswer,approached
and touched him. Sebastian raised his
eyes, which rested on tall and hand
some negro.
"Why do you come here, father?" said
he, in melancholy tone.
''To keep you company, Sebastian"
"There is no need, father; l can watch
alone"
But what if the Zombi should ap-
pear?'
81 do not fear him." replied the boy
! with penslVe smile.
Gle may carry you away my son, and
then the poor negro Gomez will have no
one to console him in his slavery"
"Oh. how sad--how dreadful it is to
be save!" exclaimed the boy, weeping
bitterly
'It is the will of God, :" replied the ne
gro.
"God!" calculated the Sebastian, as
he raised his eyes to the dome of the
studio, through which the stars gilt
tered. "God! pray constantly to him
my father land he will one day listen to
mel that we may no longer be slaves.
But 90 to bed father, go; and | shall go
to mine there in that corner, and soon
fall asleep. Goodnight, father: good
night" -,
bi, SebastianY'
''My father, that is superstition of
our country. Father Eugenia has as
sured me that God does not permit SUI
peratural beings to appear on earth"
"Why, then, when the pupils asked
you who sketched the figures they find
here every morning, did you say it was
the Zombi?''
"To amuse myself, father, and to see
them laugh; that was all"
| "Then, goodnight, my SON." And
having kissed the boy, the negro retired
to rest.
The moment Sebastian found himself
alone, he uttered an exclamation of joy.
Then suddenly choking himself, he said ::
"Twenty-five lashes tomorrow if |
can not tell who sketched those figures,
and, perhaps more if do. Oh, my God,
come to my aid"
And the little mulatto threw himself
upon the mat which served him for a
bed, where he soon fell asleep.
Sebastian awolIe at daybreak; it was
only three o'clock; any other boy would
probably have gone to sleep again. Not
so Sebastian, who had but three hours
he could call his own.
Courage, courage, Sebastian he ex-
claimed, as he shook himself awake;
"three hours are thine-Only three hours
Then profit by them, the rest belong to
thy master, slave. Let me at least be
my own master for three short hours
To begin, these figures must be effaced.' u
And, seizing brush, he approached the
! Virgin, which viewed by the soft light
of the morning dawn, appeared more
} beautiful than ever.
''Efface this!" he exclaimed. "EffacC
this! No; l will die first! Eiface this
they dare not! Neither dare |. No
, that head-she breathes-she speaks-it
seems as if her blood would flow if
should offer to eiface it,and that | should
be her murderer. No, no, no; rather lei
70 me finish il"
- Scarcely had he uttered these words
) when. seizing palette, he seated him
self at the easel, and was soon totally
, absorbed in his occupation. Hour afte
D lhour passed unheeded by Sebastian, whC
5 was too much engrossed by the beautiful
creation of his pencil, which seemed
bursting into life, to mark the flight o
time.
"Another touch!' he exclaimed "a
soft shade here; now the mouth. Yes
there. 1t opens those eyes; they pierc
me through What a forehead! Wha
delicacyl Oh, my beautiful-''and Sc
bastian forgot the hour forgot he was
slave. forgot his dreaded punishment
all. all was obliterated from the soul o
the youthful artist, who thought o
nothing, saw nothing but his beautiful
picture
But who can describe the horror an
CONSERVATION of the unhappy slave, ,whe
on turning round, he beheld all the pu
pills, with his master at their head
standing beside him.
Sebastian never once dreamed of Just
flying himself; and with his palette i
one hand and his brushes in the othel
he hung down his head, awaiting i
silence the punishment he believed h
Justly merited. For some moments
dead silence prevailed; if Sebastian wa
confounded at being caught in the con
mission of a flagrant crime, MurillO an
his pupils were no less astOnlshed at til
discovery they had made.
Murillo, having with gesture of III
hand imposed silence on his pupils, VIII
could scarcely restrain themselves frol
giving away TO their admiration, ~
preached Sebastian and, cOncealing h
emotion, said in q cold severe tone, viii
he looked alternately from the head ,
the beautiful virgin TO the terrified sla'
wLo stood like a statue before him:
"Who is your master, SebastianP"
"You," replied the boy in a vol,
scarcely audible"
. 81 mean your drawing-master?" sal
10 Murillo.
n "You, Senor," again replied the trem
ling slave.
"It cannot be; never gave you a lie
SON." said the astOnished painter.
'But you gave them TO Others, and
listened TO them" reioined the boy, er
boldeued by the kindness of his maste
And you have done better than lister
, you have profited by them!" exclaimI
'. Murillo. unable any longer to conceal h
. admiration. "Gentlemen, does this bt
I. merit punishment or rewamP"
At the word punishment Sebastian
heart beat quick; the word 'rewarC
p gave him a little courage, but feariI
I. that his ears deceived him, he look,