Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1891-06-05

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
how to use them are two different affairs"
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 frequently gave them
Although they sometimes amused them
! selves by teasing the little mulatto, he was
a great favorite with them all, and this
evening on quitting the studio, each gave
him a friendly tap on the shoulder, cOun-
seled him to keep close watch and catch
the Zombi for fear of the lash.
CHAPTER II.
1t was night, and the studio of Murillo,
/ the most celebrated painter in Seville-ths
/ studio, which during the day was so cheer
| full and animated-was now silent as the
grave.
A single lamp burned upon the marble
table, and young boy, whose sable hue
harmOnzed with the surrounding dark
ness, but whose eyes sparkled like two dia-
mOnds, leaned against an easel. Immova-
| BILE and still, lie was so deeply absorbed in
/ his meditations that the door of the studio
was opened by one who several times call
/ ed him by name, and who on receiving no
answer, approached and touched him. Sc
bastian raised his eyes. which rested on
tall and handsome negro.
! "Why do you come here, father?' said
he in a melancholy tone.
ITO keep you company, Sebastian"
"There is no need, father; can watch
/ alone"
"But what if the Zombi should appear?"
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"
"Oh, how sad-how dreadful it is to be
slave"' exclaimed the boy, weeping bit
terly.
at is the will of God" replied the ne
gro"
"Godr' calculated the Sebastian. as he
raised his eyes to the dome of the studio,
through which the stars glittered God
pray constantly to him my father land
he will one day listen to mel that we NAV
no longer be slaves. But go to bed, father,
| go; and | shall go to mine there in that
corner, and soon fall asleep. Goodnight.
father, goodnight
Are you really not afraid of the Zombi.
| Sebastian?'
MY father, that is a superstition of our
country. Father Eugenia 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 ev-
cry morning, did you say it was the Zom-
| biz"
ITO amuse myself father, and to see
them laugh; that was all
"Then, goodnight, my SON." And hay
ing kissed the boy, the negro retired to
rest.
The moment Sebastian found himself
alone he uttered an exclamation of iov.
Then suddenly checking himself, he said
"Twenty-tive 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 up
on the mat which served him for a bed.
where he soon fell asleep.
Sebastian awOke at daybreak: it was on
| ly three o clock; any other boy would prob
ably have gone to sleep again. Not so Sc
bastian 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 mas
ter, slave. Let me at least be my own mas
ter for three short hours! To begin, these
figures must be effaced." And Selling a
brush, he approached the Virgin. which
viewed by the soft light of the morning
dawn appeared more beautiful than ever.
''Etface thisr' he exclaimed. "Efface
this No; | will die first! Etface this
they dare not! Neither dare |. No-that
head-she breathes-she speaks--it seems
as If her blood would flow if | should of
fer to etface it, and that l should be her
murderer. No, no, no; rather let me fin
ish it,
Scarcely had he uttered these words
when, Selling palette, he seated himself
at the easel, and was soon totally absorbed
in his occupation. Hour after hour passed
unheeded by Sebastian, who was too much
engrossed by the beautiful creation of his
pencil, which seemed bursting into life, to
mark the flight of time.
Another tOuchr' he exclaimed. "A
soft shade here; now the mouth. Yes
there. 1t opens those eyes; they pierce me
through! What a forehead! What deica-
cy! Oh, my beautiful" and Sebastian
forgot the hour forgot he was slave. for
got his dreadful punishment-all, all was
obliterated from the soul of the Youthful
artist, who thought of nothing, saw moth
ing but his beautiful picture.
But who can describe the horror and
CONSERVATION of the unhappy slave, when
ON turning round, he beheld all the pupils
with his master at their head, standing be-
side him.
Sebastian never once dreamed of Justify
ing himself; and with his palette in one
hand and his brushes in the other. he hung
down his head, awaiting in silence the pun
ishment he believed he Justly merited. For
some moments a dead silence prevailed: if
Sebastian was COMPOUNDED at being caught
in the commission of fragrant crime. Mu-
rillo and his pupils were no less astonished
at the discovery they had made
Murillo, having with a gesture of the
hand imposed silence on his pupils, who
could scarcely restrain themselves from Civ
ing away to their admiration, approached
Sebastian and, cOncealing his emotion. said
III cold severe tone, while he looked al
ternately from the head of the beautiful
virgin to the terrified slave who stood like
a statue before him:
WHO is your master, Sebastian"
You, replied the boy in voice scarce
lV audibla