The Dickinson press., 1895-01-05

were about to be welded and that you
did not like him. 1t was fun to see
how angry he was, and how 1 showed
him that all his airs and graces were
as nothing in your sight in comparison
with the honest worth Of a ploddlng
contadino. He said he would 60 at
once-anl ] promised that l would sit
to him in Florence for the remaining
portion of the picture. I told him l
had friends there. The truth is I had
made up my mind to leave home. 1
was sick. Of it, and I knew l could gain
a living by sitting as a model to the
painters, and"
ooh, hush!" The shamed, agonized
entreaty fell across the girls heartless
words with n reprOach and an agony
that silenced her. She saw Genna had
thrown herself down on one Of the
satin c%ouches-her whole frame con-
vulsed with sobs-her face hidden in
the poor, coarse, work-hardened hands.
Nita looked at her in silence for a
moment. you should not have come
to see me-" she said. You look at
things so differently. You always did"
Genna rose to her feet and dashed
the tears from her syes. 1--WE do look
at things in a different light" she said.
Il thank God for it now. ] may be
poor, and coarse, and ignorant, but at
best my lips have never lied-my hands
have never been soiled by q touch that
would bring disllonor. oh, Nita, almost
I wish you had died ere 1 had seen you
as l see you to-day! I remember you q
little laughing, toddling child, coming
to nj for every want, looking to me
for every joy. l remember you .
happy, beautiful maiden, the delight
and pride of my heart. I have thought
of you always, day and night, since you
forsook me. 1 have thought you might
be in trouble, need, want, and that
you would surely turn to me and re-
member me then; for If you were lonely
and sorrowful you would know 1 at
least would welcome, shelter, love you
God!" The words broke off in Il cheer
less, choking sob.
Nita only surveyed her with utter
contempt. "Poor-lonely-sorrowful!"
she repeated. Did you know me so
little? Did you suppose I knew my
own value better than that? I had
not been two months in Florence before
I was the rage there. Then Rufo
sought me-poor fool! He babe me re-
member my promise. He could not
complete his picture unless I sat to
him. The sketch he took of me I had
obtained long since, and refused to give
1t to him. / sat again. I had my rea-
sons for doing SO. 1 knew he wanted
his picture sent to Rome by q certain
time. There was to be an exhibition Of
paintings there, I believe. Well, it was
all completed. He seemed satisfied and
g few judges and artists who came to
see it declared it perfect. The night
before it was to go to Rufo I was out
spending the evening with some friends
and inadvertently left the key in the
door of his studio. During his absence
some one, actuated no doubt by jeal-
ousy of his dawning success, entered
the room, and taking a brush and colors
from the stand where he had thrown
them, added some finishing touches to
the painting with such good effect
that"
"Nita, you do not mean-you were
never so base-so wicked?" cried Genna
in an agony of fear and horror.
The girl raised her eyebro " in at
fected surprise. Ell" she said coolly.
"Oh, dear me, no! 1 am no artist.
Pray do not give me the honor Of hav-
ing completed your quondam lovers
masterpiece-completed it SO success.
fully, too, that it was not sent to Rome
after all, doubtless being too perfect
Genna drew q long deep breath, and
looked at her in silence. Speech utterly
failed her. Almost she doubted hel
own senses as she listened to the heart
less words.
'sThat is all I know of Ruro," con
tinued Nita. II believe he has never
painted since. He has lost all heart
they say, in his work and is poor and
III, and almost starving.
oh, peace! peace! for Gods sake!
implored Genna with q piteous entreaty
that might have moved any heart lesl
callous and selfish than Nita's. "Dt
not make yourself utterly vile in my
sight! What have I ever done to you
that you should torture me thus"
For M moment. Nita paused, q fain1
shadow of regret sottened her face
then as suddenly she mastered herself
and spoke in the old. cold, tnsolent wa!
once more. II do not see In what wa!
I am vile, as you call it." she said. II
I have attained my end by crooket
means, yet still it is better to attail
than to miss them. I wanted to be ricl
and great. l am both"
"And happyw
She colored slightly. Happy enough,
she answered ut last.
"How did you meet your husband?
asked Genna, sternly.
4 did not meet him-he sought me
A great painter here painted me a
Phryne. He saw 1t. I told you he wa
an Italian noble-he is old-sevent
years and more-and he wat mad Il
me. I would listen to nothing; and q
last he offered to make me his wife
consented to that. Have I not don
well?"
Was the painter not RufoY aske
Genna, turning her eyes from the rad
ant. triumphant face, that now Dor
for her a shame so intOlerable-a stor
so sad.
"Rufo! how you do harp on tina
name! No! 1t was Il great painter VIII
promised me gold and fame If I woul
but let him put me on his canvas. n
!, was right have won BOTH"
Genna looked coldly Mt her. "Yo
can boast of your shame" she sale
did you never think of his suffering
. Of mine"
II did not forget you." she said; "bu
for him-I told you'll hate him."
; what has he done that you shoul
do 500" asked Genna as she paused.
: "Done?" cried Nita, contemptuousl,
Nothing! But / wanted to show hi
I was not the fool he imagined-n,
to be taken up and cast down at b
! ~caprice-no."
"And for that you have wrecked h
i. ufew
) Nita flushed hotly at the word
sNo" she said. fiercely, mot for tina
but because him alone of all men I 10
@-and he despised me-"
Genna stood there quite quiet. 81