The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1896-04-09
THE ARTISTS ANGEL.


struck noon, she had stepped from the
platform with tho assumed Indifference OF
an experienced model. 1t had not been
fatigue that had made her tromble with
eagerness TO exchange tho close studio air
for the sunshine Of the Champs Elys5os.
It was Mardi Gras, Mardi Gras In Paris
that Is 20 say, the sun dazzled, the river
CLEANED, the air sparkled with Irresistible
hilarity, the very trees on the boulevards
threw out gay little ribbons Of temptation.
Anisetto had promised to pose all tho
afternoon for George Blackwood, but be-
fore that she would have at least one
glimpse OF tho revel-satisfy her thirsty
little soul with one hastily snatched swal-
low OF enjoyment. So she ran the gantlet
of tho crowded streets, held here, caught
there, cajoled, threatened, pursued, until
she escaped into the impasse of the Boule-
yard St. Michel where Blackwood lived.
She arrived at the studio flushed, dishev-
eled and breathless, with her absurd little
hat and her shabby velvet cape all pow
dered with gold and silver dust.
George Blackwood had been pacing up
and down in rage Of impatience, but at
her entrance he threw himself into chair
with q shout Of relief.
"Enfin, Anisette," he cried, "but 1t is
adorable of you to como today"
"V'lal" said Anisette proudly. prom
ised would come. / am here. under
stand how much depends upon me. Be
sides l must be in the Champ de Mars as
we'll as that peacock Celestine, posing Tor
your friend at 25. As for the folly out
side, that is all child's play" She waved
her hand with superb disdain, tossed her
hat across the room and began at once to
prepare for her pose.
Selling his palette, Blackwood squeezed
his tubes with an unsteady hand. He was
a young fellow, but his % years had been
ali sturm und drang. He had worn
face, with high cheek bones; his forehead
where it was visible under the thatch Of
grayish blond hair was prematurely lined,
and the eyes, which shone under over
hanging brows, blInked and stared like
those of n cat in the dark. At once i'm
aginatiyo and critical, he was victim
Of that moral hypochondria, morbid self
analysis; with n giants physique no com
bined woman's sensibilities, woman's
power of concentrated passion. Intensely
preoccuped with himself, he gave but
perfunctory attention to the experiences so
many other men were eager to dilato upon
for his benefit. AS q consequence he could
number his acquaintances on his fingers.
He had no friends. He lived alone, drink
ing innumerable cups OF black coffee,
smoking cigarettes as unconsciously as he
breathed, painting early and late, paint
ing while no devoured his meals, painting
while he slept. He gave himself to his
art wholly and without reserve, but he
would make no concessions to his divinity;
he would not WOO her to come to him; he
would compel her. Sometimes he succeed
cd for the time being, but she bore the
marks of the conflict.
AS he prepared his palette he soothed his
excitement by laughing with Anisette
over her descriptions of the masks she had
seen, as man speaks gently to restive
horse he cannot quite control.
When Anisette sprang to the platform
and assumed her pose, his brows relaxed
he was confident, exultant. She stepped
into the shadow cast by screen, and she
seemed to him to have luminous quality,
like streak Of pale light. He had paint
ed her in an artificial twilight against a
| piece of purple velvet that had been worn
into grays as delicate as the mists over
distant hills at evening. The light brush
ed hor shoulders and her outstretched arms
| in thread of gold, melted In the diapha-
! nous drapery floating about her and burned
| great sea bird lowered behind her.
The shouts from the street below reach
ed them family. Anisette occupied her
self with fancies as bizarre as the costumes
of the revelers, but she neither spoke nor
moved, and the transfgured purity of her
upturned face was as changeless as mask
| in marble. To Blackwood as he painted
she was as incorporcal as the evening star.
He had thought of calling his picture that
when 1t was completed.
Blackwood talked unconsciously to him
self as ne worked. He painted with shak-
ing fingers, stopping every now and then
to steady himself, staring at her dumbly-
one moment thrilled anew by the beauty
| Of his conception, the triumphal sense of
power, the next chilled with the hopeless
ness of adequate expression, overcome by
| a dismal prophetic vision of that moment
when the joy of the creation would pass
| and leave him with the nauseating GER
| tainty of having failed somewhere, some
how, by breath too little or too much.
Anisette filled the short pauses with her
| chatter-a chatter that relieved tho tension
Of Blackwood's nerves. He looked at the
little creature with a softened glance, his
face relaxed from tho grimace into which
| his nervousness had twisted 1t.
"Anisette, he said, touching her hand
with an impetuous movement, my pic
ture will be success. 1t will be you who
have done 1t. We will celebrate it. What
| will you have thenS"
"HaIf dozen pates with foie gras, "
said Anisette promptly, champagne, oys-
ters and for solid hunger bif'tek as thick
as your hand"
"And something to wear-something
! for your pretty little head" he added,
flourishing paint brush.
Anisetto glowed with pleasure. "Allonsl
| Let us work, then; let us work." she cried,
| Blaokwood seized his palette. For an
| hour the silence was unbroken. Anisetts
had lost feeling in one Of her feet, and her
arms trembled with the effort OF holding
them upraised. She had posed standing
| from 3 to l2, from l till very nearly 4.
| She was grateful that the February day
was short, but Blaokwood as the light
faded worked himself into desperation.
He had exhausted his tube Of mAdder.
Anisettes little figure had grown rigid; it
| had lost its subtle delicacy of movement.
'Bastap' he said at last, dropping into
| q chair with sudden spasm of exhaus-
tion. His palette arm had cramped; his
painting hand was stiff as with cold.
Anisette threw herself eagerly into her
preparations for departure. What wild
sNhan'as az ravalrv darted into her brilliant
little head, pale but moment before with
faintness and fatiguel
IL want this handkerchief, my friend, Z"
she cried. "It is Mardi Gras. And l
want this bit of blue silk, and you must
lend me this droll bag with the spangles.
| II will hold my confetti"
Anisette twisted the silk into her bright