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

eyes, UHo nduQS, tile II
Zenobia's bewitching beauty. to @hich
the magic wand of love had given the I'm
ishing touch, was faultlessly reproduced
in the marble.
One glorious summer aftern DON Antonio
and his model stood before the statue in a
transport Of admiration. Through the
open windows came the noise of the streets
and chirping of birds, A broad ray OF
sunshine fell upon the marble, warming 1t
with IA rosy glow. 10 Zenobia it was
monument to love, memorial of hours OF
untold happiness. But for Antonio the
marble had different meaning. He knew
that he had created a masterpiece. For
him the statue meant fame and fortune.
A carriage had rolled down the narrow
street and stopped before the old palazzo.
The1nad not heard it. But now there was
(. sound of footsteps in the marble corridor
and an imperious knock at the outer door.
''Solne one is comingP' said Zenobia.g
Antonio had grown very pale. He knew
the footstep only too well.
go quickly, my darling" he said, kiss
ing her hastily and almost pushing hersto-
ward the panel. sss
81 1t closed behind her with a click e YES
not a moment too soon, for small, gloyed
hand swept aside the portieres and the
visitor entered the studio unannounced.
Zenobia herself was not more lovely than
this naughty, dark eyed patrician, whose
charms were enhanced by the richness and
beauty of her toilet
Antonio mio," she exclaimed in rich,
musical voice, Il surprise you a moment
en- PEASANT. Am not amiable?"
''Comtessa," he stammered, bowling low
over her jeweled fingers, ''you-at this hour
i had not expected"-
''Ah, no. pass from concert to re-
ception at the duchessa's. But how you
look-and so pale, SO strange"
'I-I am a little tired-nervous-Ih have
been working"
Sat your statue? Well, how does it pro.
gress-the masterpiece? I shall be glad
when it is finished One sees you no.
where. And this charming idyl-this ideal
love affair with your pretty model; it was
to hear the next chapter that came today
1t amuses me, this little love comedy, since
am not Jealous"
She threw herself laughing upon the
cushions of divan. She was directly op.
posite the panel of carved wood
"Dammi la storia, Tonic" she cried in
tone at once a raillery and caress, 'sthe
romance. I am dying to hear it,"
Antonio's face was livid. He was in an
agony of fear. He lost his head completely.
"Comtessa,' he said desperately, II have
favor to ask, to beg of you. Let us con
verse in French"
''In French? What strange fancyl"
81 implore you. P'-
ave have never conversed together in a
foreign tongue. Can we perhaps be heard!
Walls, they say, have ears, but they can
not repeat"
"Giuglia, if you love me, grant my re-
quest"
st is not by yielding to your foolish
whins, hat show my love-" she replied.
''Tell me Your reason
"Giuglia, are not my entreaties''--
Il will slave to no mans caprices,"
she ret0rted. Il will speak in Italian, as
have always spoken''-
She stopped abruptly. A slight noise
startled them both. The countess sprang
to her feet, superb in her indignation.
"There is some one observation-disclosures
are hiding some one," she cried.
With an effort Antonio recovered his self
control.
"There is no one," he said coldly. eff
you doubt me you have but to search the
studio"
She had risen from the divan and stood
before him with the commanding air of a
queen. The mantle of crimson plush,
trimmed with costly sables, slipped from
her superb shoulders and fell to the floor
at her feet.
Her eyes softened. With a gesture of
passionate abandon she flung her arms
around him. Six short months ago he had
adored her. Now, at the touch of those
beautiful, clinging arms GOODNESS as of
death fell upon his heart. This embrace
might part him from Zenobia forever.
A little later the Comtessa Giuglia left
him. Her visit had lasted but a short half
hour. A moment en- PEASANT, but it had
sufficed to crush forever girls heart.
Antonio flew to the panel and sought to
open it, 1t was fastened from the inside
He called Zenobia's NAME supplicated her
to open it. There was no answer In de-
spair lie rushed into the corridor, descend
ed to the street and fastened to the door
which communicated with the secret stair
case. 1t stood wide open. Zenobia had
gone.
For the first time he realized what Zen
obia had been to him. He was satisfied
women of fashion and their artificial pas
sions. The pure, strong true love of his
young girl had given him new life-fresh
inspirations Had he lost her forever? A
lover grasps eagerly at the slenderest
told himself repeatedly. She would return,
if but to reproach him. And then-ah, he
would confess everything
To in &c 81,
to her lodgings. She had not returned.
He thought that instinct might have led
her to her old place on the steps of the
cathedral and fastened .thither He found
there only Stina, who said:
Surely, Signor Antonio, it is you who
ought to know best where this shy bird has
taken shelter.o
All day he wandered about the city seek
ing for her everywhere. The sun was set
ting when weary, discouraged, heartsick,
be returned home. On the threshold of
his studio he paused for moment, closing
his eyes as though in pain, and leaned
heavily against the door. A thought came
to him. If Zenobia had returned-if she
awaited him here He entered impetuous-
ly. The lamps were not YET lighted.
"Zenia-Zenia!; he called softly, cropping
his way forward. Then all at once ter
rible cry broke from his lips.
The place where the statue had stood
was empty.
Upon the floor, broken in thousand
marble fragments, his masterpiece lay in
ruins.
The doves flew westward beneath the
evening skies, accompanying their friend
to the outskirts Of the city, and parted
from her lingeringly, returning to the steps
of the cathedral. Zenobia, crushed with
anguish. went blindly onward, her heart
rs cold as death. while in her brain, which
seemed on fire. one thought struggled
through the cloud Of fever which already
possessed her, to reach Xeres--to die,
Did she ever see again the sunny soil of
Spain, or did her fragile strength forsake
her on the way?
On the banks of the old Tiber there is a
nameless grave, shaded by dusky foliage,
TANNED by soft zephyrs, watered often by
warm tears from the feeey clouds as they
float by-a grave, not wholly forgotten,
for the faithful doves flock hither at even
tide and coo Zenobia's requiem.-Trans-
lated from the Spanish of Beniczky -Bajza
by p. de B, GUIDE for Short Stories.
Starting. and Stopping.
About twice as much energy is required