The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1892-09-16

eyes were longing for, and whose vic
tim the mouth pitied. The very COM
positeness of the face, full of contradic-
tions, was the origin of its charm.
Henri Looked long at the face, and
then turned and glanced half timidlv.
half hopefully, at Sophie. She thought
she caught his meaning and smiled
back at him.
SIS it like" she laughed.
Henri's face lost the look of hope.
He turned eagerly back to the picture,
looked at it a minute, then turned
away with sigh. Sophie came to him,
and looking over his shoulder at the
lovely reflection of herself, asked him
why he sighed. He answered.:
"Ah, Sophie, you cannot understand,
you cannot know the feeling of adora-
ton which an artist has for something
into which he has poured his whole
soul. This is my masterpiece. l shall
never do anything as good, as rich, as
expansive again!-no, never. All the
strength, all the purity, all the poetry,
of my Utmost soul are embodied in that
one painting, and now-now, / must
part with it-must say good-by forever
to what has been meat and drink to
me for months past. You cannot know
what it has come to mean to me; how
like Pygmalion, ! have worshiped it as
] created it, II is more than portrait
| 1t is an ideal in which / have lived for
months. Oh, where-where shall /
find anything to take its placer"
And Henri, kneeling before the pic.
ture, spread out his hands in supplica.
ton. Sophie knelt beside him, and
gently passing one arm over his shoul-
der whispered softly to him, as if they
already knelt before the altar:
Here, Henri, here | am have yoa
not me? Did you not paint that picture
to marry me? and now it's done, are we
not to be married. and you are to have
me always?"
She paused Henri slowly looked
around and gazcd long and steadily,
with a blank. searching look into her
sweet, pale face. Then he turned to-
ward the Lilac Witch" shuddered
and sorrowfully shook his head. He
noticed that in spot near the edge of
the canvas the varnish had worn a lit
tie rough. He got up from his knees,
and pushing aside curtain, went into
side room to get a pot of varnish.
Sophie remained motionless, kneel-
ing before the picture, her bosom heav-
ing, her eyes flashing, her hands clutch
ing convulsively at her dress She re-
peated his last words: "Where shall |
find anything to take its place."
Jealousy, cruel as the grave, jeal-
ousy of her own idealized self, jealousy
of the image of her own person re-
Elected in the artists imagination. was
taking hold of her. Oh, how she hated
the picture that had stolen her only
possession! had cheated her of Henri's
love. She arose and looked savagely at
the lovely Lilac Witch" Then, glanc-
ing wildly around the room for a
weapon, she spicd on a little table
Henri's mixing knife. 1t was of steel
and quite sharp. She ran to it, seized
it, and then coming up so close that
her hot breath made the canvas moist,
she Kissed:
There, you thief, you''-and with a
few strokes of the knife she cut and
slashed the lovely face and tore out the
gray eyes, and hacked the poor head
and bosom into shreds. Then, throw
ing back her head, she stood upright,
painting and trembling, before her dis
figured rival.
At that second it seemed as if the
scornful, plying, triumphant look of
the Lilac Witch had passed to her own
face.
Just then came a rustic at the curtain
and rattle at the door. Henri slipped
in quietly from the inner room, and
Sophie's father came bursting in from
the hall. The two men anne forward
and greeted one another cordially: then
they turned toward Sophie and the
picture.
With sharp cry Henri bounded for
ward, and,pressing his forehead against
the mutila ted painting, cried like a
child
Sophie looked wildly about, and
staggered toward her father. He rough
ly led her to chair. Then, pulling
his hat down over his ears, he said
hoarsely, half aloud:
81 must go and find Jean Bertrand"
Charles w. Shope, in Harvard Aovo-
cate.