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

One beautiful summer morning abou
the year 1880, several youths of Sevill
approached the dwelling of the celebrat
ed painter Murillo, at which they arrived
nearly at the same time.
/ After the usual salutatiOns, they en-
i, tered the studio. Murillo was not ye
there, and each of the pupils walked
quickly to his easel to examine if the
! paint had dried, or, perhaps, to admire
his work of the previous evening.
pray, gentlemen" exclaimed Istu'
ritz, angrily, (Which of you remained be-
hind in the studio last night?n
'What an absurd question: replied
COrdOva. "Don't you recOllect that we
all came away togetber?"
This is a foolish jest, gentlemen" "
answered Isturitz. last evening |
: cleaned my palette with the greatest
care, and now it is as dirty as if some
had used it all night"
"LOokl" exclaimed Carlos. Here is
a small figure in the corner of my can
vass, and it is not badly done. | should
like to know Who it is that amuses him
self every morning with sEetching fig
ures sometimes ON my canvass, some
times on the walls There was one yes
terday, on the easel, Ferdinand.
Gentlemen, replied Isturiz, Il pro-
test"
"You need not protest. replid Car
los. I'VE all know you are not capable
of sletching such figure as that"
l. And my pencils are quite wet" said
GOnzalo, In his turn. Truly, strange
things go on here during the night
"Do you think, like the negro Gamez,
that it is the Zombi who comes and
plays all these uicks?" said Istuitz.
"Truly," said Mendez, who had not
yet spoken, being absorbed in admira-
i'm of the various figures which were
sketched with the hand Of master in
different parts of the studio, ''if the
ZOmbi of the negroes draws in this man
ner, he would make beautiful head of
the Virgin in my Descent of the
Cross.
With these words Mendez with care
less air, approached his easel, when an
exclamation of astOnishment escaped
him, and he gazed in mute surprise on
his canvass, on which was roughly
sketched a most beautiful head of the
| Virgin; but the expression was so ad-
mirable, the lines so clear, the contour
so graceful, that, compared withthe fig
ures by which it was encircled, it was as
| if some heavenly visitant had descended
among them.
''Ah, what is the matter?" said
rough voice. The pupils ali turned at
the sound and all made respectful obei
scance to the great master.
Look, Senior MurillO; lOok!" eX-
claimed the youths, as they pointed to
the easel Mendez.
"Who has painted this-who has
painted this head, gentlemen?" asked
Murillo, eagerly. Speak; tell me. He
who has sketched this Virgin will one
day be the master of us all. Murillo
wishes he had done it. What touch!
Such deicacy Such skill! Mendez,
my dear pupil, was it you?n
mo, senor," replied he, in a sorrow
full tone.
WAS it you, then, Isturitz or Ferdi-
nand or Carlos?"
But they all gave the same reply as
Mendez.
at could not, however, come here
without hands" said Murillo, inpatient
W think, sir" said Cordoya, the
youngest of the pupils, that these
strange pictures are very alarming; in
deed this is not the first which has hap
pened in your studio. 70 tell the truth
such wonderful things have happened
here, one scarcely knows what to be-
| lieve."
"Where are they?" asked Murillo, still
| lost in admiration of the head of the
Virgin by the unknown author.
According to your orders, sGnor,"
answered Ferdinand, 1--WE never leave
the studio without putting everything in
order, cleaning our pallettes, washing
our brushes and arranging our easels;
but when we return in the morning not
only is everything in confusion, our
brushes filled with paint, our palettes
dirtied, but here and there are sketches
| beautiful sketches to be sure they are),
sometimes of the head of an angel, some
times of a demon, then again the profile
of a young girl, or the figure of an old
man, but all admirable as you have seen
yourself, senOr."
"Tbis is certainly curious affair;
but we shall soon learn who this nightly
visitant is. Sebastian" he continued,
addressing little mulatto boy about II
years old, "did not desire you to sleep
here every night?'
Eyes, master" said the boy with much
timidity.
"And have you done SOP"
Eyes, master"
Speak, then, who was here last night
and this morning before the gentlemen
came? Speak, slave, or / shall make
you acquainted with my dungeon" said
Murillo, angrily, to the boy, who con
tinued TO twist the band of his trousers
without replying.
"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 false, exclaimed MurillO.
mo one but me, swear you, MASTER
cried the mulatto, throwing himself on
his knees in the middle of the studio and
holding out his little hands in supplica-
ton.
Listen to me- pursued Murillo. 81
wished to know who has sketched this
head of the Virgin and all of the figures
which my pupils find here on coming to
the studio. This night, in place of go.
ing to bed, you shall Eeep watch, and il
by tomorrow you do not discover who
the culprit is, you shall have twenty-five
strokes from the lash. You hear-l have
said it; now go and grind the colors, and
you, gentleman, to work"
From the commencement to the ter
minatiOn of the hour of instruction Mu
rillo was too much absorbed with his
pencil to allow word to be spoken bu
what regarded their occupation, but the
moment he disappeared the pupils madt
ample amends for this restraint, and a!