The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1892-09-15

p
over from America. was looking all
over Paris for paintings of beautiful
women; how he had seen the Lilac
Witch;' now nearly finished, and how
he had, with an Amerlcan's extrava-
gance. offered the fabulous sum of thir-
ty thousand francs. That ended the
sitting for that day, for Sophie insisted
on taking Henri at once to her father,
telling him the news, and making him
break off all further negotiations with
Jean Bertrand.
And it was so arranged. Henri was
to pay off the mortgage as soon as the
picture was transferred, keeping the
surplus of ten thousand to start life
with Sophie, while her father dismissed
Jean Bertrand, witt. the precautionary
hint that, in case the American should
fail them he would Immediately accept
Eertrand's offer.
1t was the evening before the great
day when the picture was to be for
mally sold, the thirty thousand francs
handed over. and Henri and Sophie
married. Henri was in the studio,
standing before the picture In one
hand he held lighted cigarette, in the
other an acutely pointed paint brush
lie was scrutinizing the face of his be-
loved Lilac Witch with look of in
tense exultation. Every now and then
he " ould make an infinitesimal 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 manner that be-
spoke keen satisfacti on. He was cut
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,
tire " down the brush, drew sofa up
in front of the easel, and Law there,
watching the witch's face with low
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, an Sophie had prob
ably gone to bed, wondering why he
never came. He blamed himself for
being SO thoughtless.
This changed the current 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 few Sec
onos ago. Yes; tomorrow Sophie would
be bis, and they would come and paw him
thirty thousand francs and take away
the Lilac Witch.' Lilac Witch?"
Why. Of course; he had only painted it
for the sake of marrying Sophie.
Henri looked away from the picture,
with dull ache It 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 por-
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 though
OF its being Sophie's face at ALL lie
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 modelo
He shook his head resolute]y, 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 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 yermeil tint of the
pure cheek, were simply clever copy
or SOphles charms But in the gray
eyes was look that seemed to tell of
great, unsatisfied 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 scornful Joy of triumph
perhaps the very triumph which the
eyes were longing for, and whose vic
tim the mouth pitiel. The very com
positeness of the face, full of contradict
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.
els it lil>e?" she laughed.
Henri's face lost the look of hope
He turned eagerly back to the picture,
looked at it 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 era bodied in that
one painting, and now-now, l 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, 1 have worshiped it as
l created it. 1t is more than a portrait.
1t is all ideal in which l have lived for
months. Oh, where-where shall 1