Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-02-04

CQanCo seemed
one OF the many painters who came to her aunt's
house. She looked at every new conner to see
il he admired her. and if she found his person
agreeable she gave him every opportunity to
let her know if the impression she had made on
him was a serious one. She knew poor girls
who bad married foreign artists and she calcu-
lated her chances as she would have calculated
the probability Of her getting good situation
as chambermaid had she been obliged to lesye
the Sor Rosa. But it was always the husband whose
image she dwelt on-the master of pretty apart
ment Of which she should be the mistress
with, perhaps, the glory OF q servant of her
own. She contemplated the possibility Of silk
dresses, pearl powder and artificial flowers in
a real bonnet, not dreaming that her veil or
even shawl, was . prettier head dress than
those sighed for caprices of fashion which
adorned the heads Of her superiors. red
checked bambino or fgliuoletta was always
taken for granted, and she had quite made up
her mind how she should dress the child and
what little lessons of educazoine she should
give it. She had her theater and stage very
definitely arranged, and they represented her
sole hopes on earth; but the lover was as yet
personally indifferent. and one possible candi-
date after another failed her without having
awakened either love regret. But still she
felt herself rejected, ii must be owned that
Catina had sometimes the air of mutev offering
herself to them. Ii gentlemans eyes rested
on her, she stood still, humbly and modestly,
to be looked at as long as he might wish,
glancing at him with those wistful. wondrous
eyes Of hers, as If to ask what he thought
of her. When he dismissed her she went. Bat
when she looked down and met the earnest gaze
of John Dennys' blue eyes looking up ut her
from the gondola, when she met him at the
door and saw the dove trembling in his breast,
and felt bis smile and heard his low aud pleas
ant voice, something new stirred in her heart.
She hardly knew where she was whom she rum
mayed through the attic in search of bird
cage. palace seemed to have reared itself
about her, and when she went through the long
corridor to Dennys' room with the painter
looking down at her admiringly she felt as
though she were floating above the earth.
shall take it down to the kitchen to get
warm?' she asked, when they had put the dove
into its cage.
"Oh! it's warm enough here" said Dennys.
81 will set it in the sum-
She would not contradict him, though she
doubted. and when he made her nod of dis
missal she silently Withdrew.
Dennys went down TO dinner and took the
measure. more or less correct, of the twenty
persons seated around the table. They began
their dinner in silence, being strangers to each
other-or nearly so-and Dennys divided his
attention between his plate and Catina serving.
What splendid color she had and what
picturesquely careless hair II must certainly
paint herI' he thought.
At length conversation began like the birds at
dawn. in little timid peeps here and there
chiefly interrogatIve. Opinions stole out and
contrary ones awoke; and presently the whole
company became engaged III q not over-courte-
Gus discussion of the question:: What is the
tire end Of all art and especially Of painting?
Two or three declared that there should be
moral possible, if not aggressively evident; but
the majority we're of opinion that the object OF
the painter should be to please, by presenting
beautiful forms and colors. The gentlemen of
the company being all painters the discussion
took personal character and soon became
more warm than courteous, and the more the
artist was determined to please by his pictures
the less he seemed to think il necessary to
please by his manners.
Some .peacemaker seized an opportunity to
ask for the rescued dove as they rose from the
table. Dennvs deputed Miss Andrews to tell
the story, and taking piece Of bread went off
TO his own room.
The dove was where he had left it, huddled
into corner of its cage and trying to hide its
head. He put the bread before it. and tried to
coax II to eat. Finding his efforts futile, he
LETT it to do as it pleased and went to bed, In
the morning the little creature was in the same
corner of the cage, but it no longer tried to
avoid him.
The dove Of st. Marks was dead.
81 am 80 sorrv," Dennys said. CARRYING it
down to the dining room, where Miss Andrews
sat sketching by a window. ~ am afraid that
ought to have taken more pains last night
He seated himself by the side window from
before
and gazed in pensive silence at the dead bird
resting on his knee. Cstina clearing away the
breakfast table. glanced at him as she camo
and went Miss Andrews. seated by the front
window, was sketching the Campanile OF San
Giorgio and trying to get in its reflection that
came quivering half way across the lagoon
now succession of ripping lines, now swept
out OF sight by sheet of dazzling light. and
again ripping into sight. She also glanced at
the painter. and had half mind to abandon
the subject In hand and make n sketch of him.
What good heart he has," she thought for
the second time in twenty-four hours. "And
how beautiful he ISL
Catina finished clearing the table. lowered
about for a few minutes, then tlmidly ap-
preached the painter.
''Will You have it stuffed?'' she asked
"Gracious, nor he exclaimed, and gave such
start that the dead bird fell from his knee to
the floor.
Catina picked it up and gently smoothed its
plumage. holding it against her breast. "You
can bury it in the garden" she said.
lis there garden? Tha. is Just the thing"
Dennys rose. Come. aud show me the wav I
want 10 finish the business. Miss Andrews will
you assist in paying the last honors to our de-
parted friend?'
He had already started and, standing beside
Catina, looked back from the middle of the
room.
women do not assist at funerals in this
country" she replied, her eyes on her sketch
II will go later and carry flowers"
She hardly owned to herself that she was a
little out of humor, though she certainly did
not like tho ease with which Catina made ac-
quaintarce with the gentlemen Of the house.
"A girl like that should wait to be spoken to-"
she thought pulling out her watch when the
two had left the room. If she wished to make
sure how long the funeral ceremonies would
last she must have suspected her imagination
was capable of exaggerating the time. Catina,
still holding the dove against her breast, led
the way to a corner of the garden where a
clump of oleander trees made a pleasant soli-
tude. Standing beside them one could see
without being seen. ''You might bury it
here, she said, and looked at him with fit
ting conscious smile. She had given him the
opportunity to pay her compliment. Would
he improve it? He thought that che was afraid
of him. II suppose an Italian would feel
obliged to do little love- making if be were in
my place" he thought.
The small grave was dug and lined with rose
leaves and the dove set in it rs in a nest
and covered with rose leaves and with EARTH
Catina had made tour Of the garden and had
swept ell the overblown roses into her apron.
Then. when the tiny mound was smoothed
over, she shaped cross on it with oleanoer buds.
What DO you think, Catina?" the painter
said when they stood side by side. their task
ended. xviii that dove ever fly again?"
Il do not know" she replied seriously. "But
my mother said that there are birds in heaven
When she was dying she said that she heard
them singing"