The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1892-04-21

MY cousin, l4aVolslnl, studied with
me, and in view Of these circumstan-
ces my mothers chaperonage often
relaxed. What happy days those
were! We were young, full OF life and
health, aspiring to high ideals, pure as
day-break. Ours was the blissful con
tidence ofinnocence, ignorance. TWAS
disturbed. 1t was disturbed indeed.
cone day, as / painted, I heard a
footstep coming up the long flight of
stairs leading to the studio. Leisure
ly, emphatic, elastic, confident, it
came on and on. Louder, more agg-
gressive, self-assertive. by the time It
reached the studio door, I felt that
all enemy stood there. The man who
entered completed my instructive dis
like. In his auburn hair, his rudy
cheeks, his massive but supple form,
scarlet lips and hawk-llke, contempt
uous eyes, the lust of life
was exemplified. He came to
buy q picture. He remained to
lnsinuate the poison of materiality
into our hearts, Into mine, hatred.
Into Lugi's fascination. He said that
the artist refreshed him like spring wa
ter. At the bottom of the clearest
human nature you may stir up mud
if you will: The spring became pollu-
ted. Luigi became unnerved, listless,
hollow OF eye and cheek in a few days.
He sought me less; when he did he
treated me with apologize kindness.
Marshall-so the stranger was called
appeared interested in me also.
repulsed him without disguise. He
said that, since would not receive
him, he must content himself with
our Luigi The words were yelled
threat. He soon held my poor boy
as in a vice. STEPPED in material
pleasures, he WINGED under Marshall's
contempt of all finer feeling; his ideals
were rendered ridiculous, his virtues
contemplate. but he submitted to the
influence. was not able to remons-
trate. | was SO young you see; could
hardly define what had happened. But
Ihated Marshall The hatred grew. 1t
reached a climax one day when
found Luigi PROSTATE on the studio
floor, his body convulsed with sobs.
l begged him to tell me what had hap
pened. He only muttered that is was
too late. told him it was never too
late for truth and love. He replied
that he had neither; he did not even
desire them. His face, aged and lined,
his wasted frame, his dimmed eyes, ali
confirmed his words. Hateful as is
the gulf where have fallen,' he said,
Il do not wish to leave it. Outside of
the sensations it affords, am a dead
man. Even while I lament, an inter-
LOT voice mocks me and assures me
that my thirst for the lowest forms of
pleasure is unslaked, that I shall soon
enjoy them again, and with him, even
promise delights me. Go, Nina; CO.
Terrible words for q young girl to
hear! I left him, loving him more
than ever. I shut myself in my room,
planning his release, nursing my de-
hesitation Of Marshall. I did not per-
ceive that he had thus infected nv
mind also. While 1 thought out var
lous plans, all at once seemed to see
Marshall lying upon the studio lounge,
where he took his noon siesta, after
an opium cigarette. Above the
lounge this dagger always hung. And
then seemed to see it planted in his
heart. This picture delighted my
fancy. A spark lit it and famed in
my brain; while l mentally contem-
plated it. Then laughed aloud. A
new thought had struck me. There
was a private passage way connecting
our house and the studio. At noon
every one was asleep. And-why
not? Something seemed to harden
inside OF me. rose like one refreshed.
l was young and strong I loved
Luigi, would free him.
"Well; the day and the night passed
somehow. Through the long hours
revelled in a mental picture of dag
ger stained with blood. Life, for me,
seemed to end with Mephist opheles
sneering above a dead mans heart.
Noontide found me in the studio;
Marshall lay there, asleep. telt as
cool and hard as a. rock. leaned
over him, took the dagger
from the wall, unshe he'd
1T, planting myself fl rmly
upon my feet. The sleeper
turned towards me, smiling in his
lethargy. [ smiled back. l raised nv
erm, looked at the weapon to guide nv
aim. Heaven! What. was that saw
uPoA OA1C Oit1uS! w udU WIS Cn6 OeaO-
ly stain? Whence come those drops
OF blood? The blade had a voice. It
yelled murder at me- The air resound-
ed with crisp tongues that took up the
cry. [ shrank. covered. I fled.
Back to my room again, alone with
the dagger, tried frantically to re-
move the stain. I could not. The
silent witness of my moral guilt re-
manned. Marshall walked the streets,
but 1 was a murderess. The thought
was the deed; it lived, even though the
final blow was wanting. I saw this,
but l would not believe it. stole to
the studio and hung the unclean thing
upon the wall again, quaking with
fear lest some one should unsheath it
and expose that eloquent STAIN
She sobbed a moment, Historically,
from exhaustion.
81 will not keep you much longer.
While fingered, my cousin came in.
l burst into tears at sight of him. He
led me before Luigi's best work;it was
cut to pieces with q palette knife. 1T
is Marshall who obsesses him. he said;
Can nothing be done?" I shook nv
head any gazed at the dagger on the
wall: hate was in NV heart stooothor