The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-01-26
{" Bravo Torera!"

l.
One summer morning in the year 1860
the. sun was shining radiantly on the
city OF Seville. Certain beams, shoot
ing through a high stained window Of
| the old cathedral. found their way
aslant TO the picture of ST. Anthony OF
| Paduas and, resting there, Illuminated
| the profile OF the saint himself. Far
| down below in the dim aisle knelt girl
| whose upturned face betrayed a deep
| admiration Of the masterpiece hanging
from the wall. The impress of admira-
| ton was quickly followed by one Of
| gratitude as, bending her head toward
| the ground, she muttered a prayer for
| "the great Murillo." Her benediction
| ended, she rose and slowly left the
| building. Emerging from the shadows
| of the porch, the glare of day displayed
| her as a young woman of the poorest
class, black-eyed. red-lipped. beautiful.
| She was flower girl by trade. but the
grace and dignity which invested her
supple figure would have done credit to
sovereign princess. Dark hair waved
about her low, smooth forehead and
softened the bold and vivacious express
sion of the eyes. A sweet womanly
mouth was hers, made to smile or kiss.
and saved from the reproach Of pouting
by an unlocked for squareness of the
jaw 1t was evident she could be de-
ternnined If she chose. But just at the
present. moment she did not choose. She
was dreaming sweetly of the picture in
the baptistery.
Wandering onward. Leona presently
reached the bridge, over the parapet of
which she leaned and watched the
widening waters of the Guadalquivir.
Thus engaged, she did not notice COM
motion which arose among the numerous
beggars and other loiterers in the imme-
date vicinity. Every one was making
way for gentleman apparently of high
birth, who was vending htherward
from the further side of the bridge.
Suddenly he stopped short few PAGES
from the flower girl and scanned her
classic features. His keen scrutiny at
length pierced the haze which had
taken possession of Leona's faculties,
ing stared at intently She was accus-
toned to this kind of thing and turned
abruptly about to face her critic. But
it was Murillo himself who stood before
her She knew him at once-every one
in Seville knew him. Her bold eyes
filled with distress and rapidly dropped,
while the carnations in her basket were
not of deeper hue than the cheeks
above them. Murillo approached and
purchased some flowers.
What are you called?" said he.
"Leona, la florera. senor," replied the
girl. coupling her trade with her name.
"Would you not sit to me for a Mag
dalena? Would you not let me put you
in one of my pictures?'
Poor Leona's memory at once flew
back to the cathedral pictures full of
dignified figures.
Leona has no mantilla, senior. She
has nothing but these" and she showed
her rags
$50 much the better replied the
painter. II want to paint you, not a
mantilla. Promise to come to the
academy tomorrow at noon and ask for
Bartolomeo Murillo."
The arrangement was soon made
side. while the painter pursued his way,
simply fascinated with this model for
Magdalena-
AS for the flower girl, she escaped i'm
patiently from a crowd of inquirers and
walked swiftly in the opposite direction.
1t wanted a few minutes to II as she
turned sharp round on to the river
beach. Making her way under the near
est arch, she sat down on g block Of
stone in the shade and commenced to
smooth back her hair.
Twelve o'clock struck. The last stroke
had hardly ceased vibrating when a
mans figure approaching caught her
eye. She evidently expected him, for
she looked another way.
He was a medium sized man, a fisher
man by occupation; but over fair for a
Spaniard. Still, a Spaniard he was, and
his name MequineZ. His blue eyes, with
a far off look in them, and his small
hands certainly did not harmonic with
the dress of piscador. Perhaps he had
mistaken his profession. Leona said he
should have been poet, for he had
made pretty verses on herself and had
put them to the guitar.
What flower from the gardens of princes
Can compare with the rose of Seville?
Mequinez began to chant as he sat down
at her feet.
"It is Mequinez" cried the girl with
out turning her head II know him by
his stupidity
/ .1t is Leona," retorted the fisherman,
. land I know her by her pretty ankle"
And, bending forward, he kissed her SUM-
burned foot
/ Leona, with lightning speed, drew the
blushing member under the shelter of
her ragged skirt Then she turned on
{ him, her cheeks all aglow, and with joy
at her heart and reproof on her tongue,
/ she made the arch resound with TRADE
against the insolence of fishermen in
\ general, and of Mequinez in particular
+ SO loud. indeed. was her tone that the
words were articulate to the ear of a
certain boatman who was lying down
+ full length in his shallop anchored
hard by
i This boatman was not there by chance.
He was there to watch and grow jealous
over the interviews of Leona and Me-
quinez To Leona he bore the relation
ship of cousin, but was ardently de-
sirous of forming a much closer tie.
But Mequinez was in the way. The
problem of life then for Vicente was to
remove that same Mequinez. AS the
lips or the fortunate lover touched the
fiorera's foot Vicente changed from
swarthy to ashen pale. 1t was past en-
'durance. Mequinez should no longer
block the light out of his life.
"Peacp uuerida ppaca" said Mo-