Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1892-01-01

II OLA i 1LALD OLAF OIs
On the steps of the cathedral sat Zenobia
alone the beauty of the blossoms that
caused passers by to purchase her bouton-
nieres, but the lovely eyes of the little
flower gender and the smile of her pretty
scarlet lips.
Stina, whose stand was on the other side
of the steps, her wares not yet half sold,
watched with envy the good fortune of her
neighbor.
The soft wind ruffied the loose curls
about Zenobia's face and shoulders, toyed
audaciously with the kerchief upon her
bosom, and blew the scanty folds of her
scarlet wooden skirt around the 1.-THE,
young limbs, revealing exquisite contours.
Zenobia had for her customers smile,
sweet and bright as the summer sunshine,
and as fitting. But her answers to their
compliments were so dreamily distracted
that the handsome youths who focked
every morning to the plaza, eager to plum
der her basket of its blossoms, went away
disappointed, leaving the girl to her
dreams.
The doves staid longest with her. They
lighted on her head and shoulders and
upon the edge of the basket, pecking con-
fdently at her hair and the straws of the
flower tray. And when, with soft rust
ling and whirring of wings, they scared
upward and flew away toward the west,
Zenobia thought that they were going to
her own beloved Andalusia-to her birth
place, Xeres-and sent a greeting with
them. The doves and the zephyr carried
TO 1a
and was beloved.
Daily the equipages of the rich and the
mobiles whirred past her, drawn by spirited
horses, driven by coachmen in gorgeous
liveries; and in them, leaning upon the
satin cushions, were great ladies. dressed
in silks and laces and wearing beautiful
jewels. But the girl envied none of them.
Did she not possess the great treasures~0 Of
life-youth, beauty, love, hope?
One morning, when she had been but a
few months in Rome. a young man, care
lessly, almost shabbily, dressed, with a face
like that which artists are wont to give to
Romeo, paused at her stand, begging for a
| flower. And Zehobia, with friendly smile,
offered hin. her choicest bunch of Parma
violetss telling him with innocent coquetry
to Keep them as souvenir.
''Thanks, signorina. l shall keep them
always" he answered, pressing the flowers
to his lips with a feryor that brought
crimson flush to the girls cheeks and
throat
Into her virgin heart the first drop of
sweet, insidious poison had entered. All
day her thoughts were of the young stran-
ger, whose very name was unknown to her.
After that day he came often.
Acquaintance drifted into friendship,
friendship to love.
And Zenobia's dream became reality.
Antonio told her that he was aspoor
sculptor and had come to Rome to COM
pIete his art studies. In the first days of
their friendship he made little bust of
Zenobia, which filled the girls heart with
innocent pride. She knew that she was
beautiful; she had been told so many thou
sands of times. But that her features were
so perfect as those of the marble portrait,
she had not dreamed before.
"Ah, Carina, if you would only come to
my studio" her lover pleaded, II would
make of you portrait, life size, in marble,
SO perfect that all Europe would talk of
your beauty. Yes, even in Xeres they
would speak of it. It would bring to us
both fame and fortune"
At first she resisted, but against the
pleading of the loved ones voice a girls
frail heart battles but feebly.
There came day when Stina sat alone
| upon the steps of the church.
Where is Zenobias the people asked.
Stina shrugged her brown shoulders and
answered that she did not know. Expe-
rience of life is hard school.
Stina guessed the truth and smiled to
herself maliciously.
The doves came looking for their friend
the zephyrs brought greetings from Heres;
the light, fleecy clouds on which the girl
had gazed SO often, tracing fantastic inn
ages in their feathery outlines, aoated
softly across the azure sky, and, as though
grieved at her absence, shed soft tears OF
summer rain, .splattering the old stone
steps where she was wont to sit and fall
| ing upon Stina's black hair and gay dress.
And upon the threshold of studio in
one of the old houses in the Via Margutta
stood Zenobia, with soft, shame flushed
cheeks, her little hands tightly clasped
over her beating heart. gazing at the
splendors around her with startled eyes,
which frightened, then fell, beneath the
ardent gaze of her lover as he came for
ward with outstretched arms to meet her.
But you said you were poor, signor,"
she stammered, bewildered.
Tbs atelier dazzled and awed her. This
large and lofty room, with its costly east
ern hangings, its great masses OF foliage in
the windows and rare bits of art scattered
everywhere in profusion, was SO unlike the
humble and poorly furnished room in
which she had pictured him at work.
For the first time vague feeling Of I'M
easiness, not distrnst of her lover, but q
IF tho fart that ha xvaS nnt
of her world, came to her,
Antonio drew her into his embrace
kiss me- Zenobia; only the sunshine
can see u.s."
He explained to her gently that the
painter and sculptor must have beautiful
surroundings If be wishes to gain rich
patrons. If the room were poor OF nleanly
| furnished, they would take their money
and their orders elsewhere.
sAh, how often, when dining off a crust
Of bread, this gorgeousness has seemed to
mock me-" he added, with 2 sigh which
seemed to come from his heart. ''You ses
here all my worldly possessions. Come,
little one, let me show you the treasures of
my kingdom"
She was ignorant Of the world, this little
flower vender.
She loved and she believed.
Hand in hand they made the tour of the
studio, he amused at her childish delight
and astopishment. They paused at last
before cpriously carved panel, set deeply
into the wall, which, on Antonio's touch,
glded back noiselessly, revealing beyond Q
small square room.
mo one knows of this little recess but
ourselves" he said. SIT shall be your hid
ing place if we are eyer disturbed, There
is a staircase leading from it to the street.
Through these openings at the top you
will be able to see and hear everything
that goes on in the studio
The summer days drifted slowly by.
Zenobia lived as in dream. Her doubts,
her fears, her scruples were banished BY