Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1891-08-20

W
full close. The atmosphere had the
soft, delicate tones which had de,
lighted Maurice on the previous
evening, and his work advanced
rapidly.
He painted on the picture after.
ward in his studio. He determined
to make it his best work. Being al
ready well known it was no longer
necessary for him to seek to make a
name; nevertheless he was certain
that this picture would set the seal
on his reputation.
BY the time he had finished the
picture to his satisfaction Winter had
come, and Maurice was in love with
his little model.
He loved her too much to tell her
of his love, too much to tear from
her native meadow this flower OF
maidenhood whom he could not
make his wife, but enough to suffer
at the Thought of parting from her.
She had naught that goes to the
making of happiness in life, neither
depth of sentiment, nor devotion,
which makes one forget all else, nor
passion which excuses all things; she
was simply a pretty flower of the
field, a little vain, a little coquettish,
without either grave faults or great
virtues. Maurice knew that she
could be nothing to him, yet he
adored the beautiful outlines Of her
scarcely developed form, which the
folds Of her coarse gown chastely en-
veloped, yet could not all conceal.
He loved those deep eyes, that smil-
ing mouth, those yellow tresses, al
ways in disorder, the little hand
kerchief that crossed her bosom: all
these he loved, and it was with pain
he thought Of parting from them.
One always parts with pain from
what he expects never again to
see. 1t is. so hard to leave behind
one q bit of ones life that he has no
right to keep.
He had carried Other picture, how
ever, and before this he passed the
best hours of the Winter, censlessly
laboring to perfect a work already
perfect.
The painting was greatly admired.
The critics were unanimous in their
enthusiasm, but they declared that
such face could not exist except in
the mind of a poet or in the magma
ton of /; painter. Maurice listened
to all this with Il smile, and kept to
himself the secret of the sweet face
that had inspired him.
He received fattering offers for his
picture. None of his previous paint
ings had commanded so high a price.
He declined to sell it; he also refused
to allow it to be engraved. AS he
was unable to possess the model OF
the picture, he was determined to
keep the latter.
1t was Autumn when he returned
to the village where he had met the
little maid with the yellow hair.
Since he had painted her portrait,
Twice had the bonfires of st. Johns
Eve seen the bands of Joyous peas
ants dancing about them. and as he
thought of the young girl he smiled
sadly, wondering which of the vii
lage rustics had made her his choice.
His first pilgrimage was the forest
of chestnuts. AS darkness comes
quickly on October evenings, he has
tened along the forest walk: but it
was not yet dark, and rays of amber
light still traversed the forest, falling
upon the leaves that trembled on
their branches. and upon those that
rustled under his feet. With the oder
of dead leaves came a thousand re-
grets, sorrowful memories and bitter
thoughts, which filled him with I'm.
speakable sadness, with a greater
distaste for life than he had ever be-
tore experienced.
When he reached the glade he
seated himself in the same place
where two years before he had
sketched the picture which had
crowned his fame The cold stone
on which he sat seemed to mock all
his tender feelings.
While thus seated he saw approach
ing him. over the well-known path,
the girl who had been his model
now large young woman. She was
not alone; peasant walked beside
her, holding her by the hand; he was
a handsome fellow, strong and we'll
built, and well-to-do for one of his
class. He leaned toward her, and
from time to time kissed a tear from
her cheek.
When they saw Maurice they
confused and surprised.
''And this he thought, lis the girl
of whom have dreamed.
But he took pity on her when, in a
voice OF signs, she said tG him:
''TheE do not wish us to marry. I
am poor, he is well off, and his moth
er does not want me for daugter-in-
law; she even talks of disinheritine
him"
"And you, yon do not wish to be
Maurice said ironical-
" to the young mon.
why, one must live."
That is true. l am sorry for YOU,
my children"
They departed. Maurice, when left
to himself. took his head between his
hands and thoupht for Ionr +;n,o