Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1891-04-19

plying.
"Ah, you don't choose to answer" said
Murillo, pulling his ear.
mo one, master, no one" replied the
trembling Sebastian, with eagerness.
"That is falsep exclaimed Murillo.
mo one but me, swear TO you, master, -
cried the mulatto, throwing himself on his
knees in the middle the studio and hold
ing out his little hands in supplication be-
fore his master.
Listen to me-" pursued Murillo 81
wish TO know who has sketched this head
of the Virgin and all the figures which my
pupils find every morning here on coming
to the studio. This night, in place Of 60
ing to bed, you shall keep watch; and if by
tomorrow you do not discover who the
culprit is you shall have twenty-five
strokes from the lash You hear-I have
said it; now go and grind the colors; and
you, gentlemen, to work"
From the commencement till the termi-
nation of the hour of instruction Murillo
was too much absorbed with his pencil to
allow a word to be spoken but what re
gartled their occupation, but the moment
he disappeared the pupils made ample
amends for this restraint, and as the I'M
known painter occupied all their thoughts
the conversation naturally turned to that
subject
Beware, Sebastian, of the lash," said
Mendez, "and watch for the culprit, but
give me the Naples yellow"
"Nou do not need it, Senior Mendez.
You have made it yellow enough already
And as to the culpHt, have already told
you that 10 is the Hombi.'
Are these negroes fools or asses with
their Zombi" said Gonzalo, laughing
"Pray, what is a ZombiE"
"Oh, an imaginary being of course. But
take care, Senior GOnzalO,n continued Sc
bastian, with a mischieyous glance at his
easel "for it must be the ZOmbi who has
stretched the left arm of your st. John to
such length that, if the right resembles
it, he will be able TO unite his shoestrings
without STOPPING"
"Do you know, gentlemen" said Isturitz,
as he glanced at the painting, that the re
marks of Sebastian are extremely just, and
much to the point|
ooh, they say that negroes have the face
Of an ape and the tongue of a parrot, re-
joined GonzalO, in a tone of indifference.
"With this distinction" observed Ferd-
nand, that the parrot repeats by rote,
while Sebastian has judgment in his re-
marks"
Like the parrot, by chance" returned
Gonzalo.
"Who knows" said Mendez, who had
not digested the Naples yellow, that from
grinding the colors he may one day aston
ish us by showing he knows one from an
other?"
"To know one color from another and to
know how to use them are two very diff
ferent things" replied Sebastian, whom
the liberty Of the studio 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 frequently gave them respecting
their paintings. Although they sometimes
amused themselves by teasing the little
mulatto, he was a great favorite with them
all; and this evening, on quitting the
stTdio, each giving him friendly tap on
the shoulder counseled him to keep strict
watch and catch the Zombi for fear of the
lash.
It was night, and the studio of Murillo.
the most celebrated painter in Seville-this
studio, which during the day was 50 cheer
sul and animated-was now silent as the
grave. A single lamp burned upon a mar
BILE table, and a young boy, whose sable
hue harmonized with the surrounding
but whose eyes sparkled like
diamonds at midnight, leaned against an
easel. Immovabe and STILL he was so
deeply absorbed 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 answer approached
and touched him. Sebastian raised his
eyes, which rested on a tall and handsome
negro.
"Why do you come here, father" said
he in a melancholy tone.
"To keep you company, Sebastian"
"There is no need, father; | can watch
alone"
"But what if the Zombi should Gomez"
81 do not fear him." replied the boy,
with pensive smile.
"He may carry you away, my son, and
then the poor negro Gomez will have no
one to console him in his slavery"
ooh, how sad-how dreadful it is to be
slaver exclaimed the boy, weeping bit
terly
at is the will of God, :" replied the negro,
with an air Of resignation.
"Godp calculated Sebastian, as he raised
his eyes to the dome Of the studio, through
which the stars glittered God | pray
to him, my father land he will
one day listen TO mel that we may no
longer be slaves; but go to bed, father, go,
go, and | shall 90 to mine there in that
corner, and shall soon fall asleep. Good
night, father; good night"
Are you really not afraid of the Zombi,
"My father, that is a superstition of our
country. Father Eugenio has assured me
that God does not permit supernatural be
ings 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
Zombig"
"To amuse myself, father, and to make
them laugh; that was ALL"
"Then good night, my son." And hav-
ing kissed the boy the negro retired.
The moment Sebastian found himself
alone he uttered an exclamation of joy.
Then, suddenly checking himself, he said:
twenty-five lashes tomorrow If do not
tell who sketched these figures, and per
haps more If l do Oh, my God, come to
NV afIr1 rA tho 1iffI, ,,,rlottc 81