Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1892-09-15

he ould make an infnitesima! stroke
with the brush, after which he would
take long pull at the cigarette, let
ting the smoke slowly exude from his
mouth and nose in a manner that be-
spoke keen satisfaction He was gut
ting on what he called the last
touches before he said goodnight to the
picture and went to ca II on Sophie. He
looked at his watch. twas already past
nine and he had promised to be there
at eight. Still there were only few
more tiny touches needed and then he
would go. He lit cigarette after cigar
cite. he walked up and down the room,
changed the lamps and surveyed the
painting from twenty different points
of view. Finally he seemed satisfied,
threw down the brush, drew a sofa up
in front of the easel, and lay there,
watching the witch's face with lov-
er's rapture. His chest heaved, his
eyes grew bright, the muscles round
his mouth softened into an expression
of supreme delight.
Suddenly he started and looked at
his watch. 1t was twelve O'Clock and
|.he had forgotten, and Sophie had prob
ably gone to bed, wondering why he
never came. He blamed himself for
being SO thoughtless.
This changed the Gu rent of his
thoughts, reminding him that to-mor-
row he married Sophie and they would
always live together: bright smile lit
up his face, but it was commonplace
smile compared to his look Of a few sec
onos ago. Yes; tomorrow Sophie would
be bis, and they would come and pay him
thirty thousand francs and take away
the ''Lilac Witch" "Lilac Witch?"
Whr, Of course; he had only pa inted it
for the sake of marrying Sophie.
Henri looked away from the picture,
with dull ache 1T his heart. Some
how, life with Sophie, when the Lilac
Witch was gone, did not seem so
sweet as it used to in the old days
when they had the first sittings. Then
the picture only meant to him the pdr-
trait Of his dear Sophie. Now, when
he was gazing into that fair, arch face
on the canvas, SO triumphant and yet
SO plying and tender, he never thought
of its being Sophie's face at all He
seemed to see there something that was
all his own and had come out of his
own soul How could he bear to part
with it? But he was winning Sophie
by giving it up. A horrible doubt came
to him. What if after all he should
love the picture better than the model?
He shook his head resolutely, and
went to bed. All that night in his
dreams that awful doubt tormented
him.
On the morrow Sophie appeared be-
fore the hour of the business transac-
ton SO as to tidy up the studio and make
it look more festive. She found Henri
there before the picture as usual. He
! had wheeled the easel up near the
window and was dcvouring the paint
ing with his eyes. He never so much
as turned his head to greet her. He
saw there, on a bank of moss, half Sit
ting, half reclining, a beautiful woman.
the image of his sweetheart, yet wear
ing an intangible something about the
eyes and mouth, something that Henri,
with feelings of misgiving, felt that
Sophie had not. The wavy, light brown
hair. hanging in ringlets over the bare
shoulder, and the verneil tint of the
pure cheek, were simply clever copy
of Sophie's charms. But in the gray
eyes was look that seemed to tell of a
great, unsa tisfied longing. for love-or,
perhaps, victory-while the delicate,
slightly curving lips had tender, pity
ing expression that was strangely con-
tradicted by the pointed chin, which
bodied forth a scornful Joy of triumph
perhaps the very triumph which the
eyes were longing for, and whose vic
tim the mouth pitied. The very COM
positeness of the face, full of contradic-
tons, was the origin of it's charm.
Henri looked long at the face, and
then turned and glanced half timidly,
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. / shall
never do anything as good, as rich, as
expansive again!-no, never! All the.
strength, all the purity. all the poetry,
of my inmost soul are embodied in that
4 -
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 worshipcd It as.
! created it. 1t is more than portrait.
1t is an ideal in which have lived for
months. Oh, where where shall I
lind 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 shout
der whispered softly to him, as if they
already knelt before the altar: s
Here, Henri, here am! have YOU
not me? Did you not paint that picture
to marry me? and now it's done, are we
not 70 be married, and you are to have
me always?' Il
She paused Henri slowly looked
around and gazed long and steadily.
with blank. searching look. into her
sweet, pale face. Then lie turned to-
ward the Lilac Witch, y shuddered
and sorrowfnlly shook his head. He
noticed that in a spot near the edge of
the canv as the varnist hatlsworn lit
tie rough. He got up from his knees,
and pushing aside . curtain, went into,
q side room to get pot Of varnish.
Sophie remained motionless, kneel-
ing before the picture, her bosom heay-
ing, lsor 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, ieal-
ousy Of her own -idealized SELF, jealousy
Ct thesimaRe OF her own person re-