The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1896-09-02
A BEAUTIFUL MAN.

A BEAUTIFUL MAN.
He had that insolent, aggressive sort
Of beauty that makes people turn around
in the street and stare-the strong, fair,
God given beauty that even men like to
look at.
He lived up to his beauty, and for
his beauty and by his beauty. He looked
like prince, prince Of some northern
saga-like Frithjof, the destroyer Of
gods. He looked like the impossible hero
of penny novelette, written by a wom-
an.
He was one evening at Colonel and
Mrs. Wayne's. The music was COM
plicated, and the women were plain,
and he-wishing these conditions had
been reversed-sat with his elbow rest
ing on little table near him and hand
lifted up, looking at his nails. Itsoothed
him and prevented his yawning from
becoming unmanageably frequent
''May I see them, too?" said wom-
ans voice at his side 1t was clear
young voice, and when he turned around
to look at its owner he was disap-
pointed
IT am a painter, said she, "and
understand beautiful hands" She held
out one Of her own, palm upward, as
she spoke, waiting for him to lay his
upon it. He did so smiling, not know
ing exactly what to say, and she bent
her head little to one side and looked
at it.
The daughters Of the house were play
ing long duet.
"How dreadfully bored you are, she
said thoughtfully, without raising her
eyes; five yawns in ten minutes You
may take back your hand Thank you" "
He was again at loss what to say.
He did not quite understand her, with
her pretty voice and her ugly face He
would have liked to know what she
thought Of his hand, but it looked fool
ish to ask. So he sat still, staring at
her aggravating, untidy little profile.
The ugly little thing came up to him
before the evening was over and lifted
her small hard face to his. "Mr. Van
den Heuvel," she said in pretty voice
that ought to have belonged to some one
else, II want you to come and see me
that is" she corrected laughingly, "I
want you to come and let me see you
want to paint you, please" And here
softening Of the pretty voice. "You
are 80 very beautiful I am an exceed
ingly clever painter, you know, so you
need not fear to trust your beauty with
me-"
He went next day, and the day after
that and every day.
She never needed or cared about what
his thoughts or his feelings might be.
She painted on, stopping sometimes to
clasp her hands in frank, heathenish
alteration before him. "Your beauty
positively hurts mep' she would say,
pressing both her hands to her heart.
And if he turned pale she told him to
spoil her tints.
II love you," said Henri Pierre one
afternoon as she bent over him with
cardboard lotus lily in her hand
Don't be foolish, DEAR" she said, re-
arranging her landscape.
IT love you, repeated Narcissus.
"Now your curls are all tangled up
on the wrong side, and it will take me
an hour to fasten the lilies on your
head" she said Grossly. And with light,
turpentiny fingers and with . long brush
In her mouth she patted him into shape
again. "There, look down now and
smile"
y u
II shall try and catch smallpox, " said
Henri Pierre, opening his eyes, "or get
burned in fire and be all SCARED and
hideous. Then you will love me for
something better than my beauty"
"Then T shall not love you at all"
said the girl, with decided little dab
Of the brush go to sleep. Here comes
Diana.
It was not Diana 1t was Lydia Love,
the poetess, who opened the door and
entered with the flash and dazzle of her
young success, and Of her scarlet hat
and cloak.
"My dear, you must lend him to
me, y she said after she had kissed her
friend and stared at Henri Pierre until
he shut his eyes again in self defense.
II have got an order for % sonnets,
and my brain is absolutely dried up.
Lend him to me for three weeks. I'll
send him back unimpaired. Heavensl
What face he has!"
4
He learned all her poems by heart,
and reoited. them to her in the mornings
when she was too calm to write. He
sat at her feet from morning to night
with the blue intensity Of his eyes fixed
on her willful face, and his heart broken
by her caprioious kindness
II love you," he said
She laughed "Be content with the
gift Of gifts the gods have blessed you
with-your beauty-your improbable,
your perfect, your magnificent beauty" }"
"Hang my beautyp' cried Henri
Pierre passionately. "I want to be loved
loved for no reason-lovedl Not be-
cause my nose is straight, and my hair
browny yellow, and my eyes SLY blue!
But loved with closed eyes, blindly, un-
reasonably"
II am so1Ty," said Lydia, who had
finished her twenty fourth sonnet tb2t
day; "but I cannot help you And if
you take my advice you will never be
angry or In earnest about anything. 1t
spoils your features.
u Il
"Chi dice ca II stelle SO 'lucento,
Nun sape stuocchie CO tu tiene' ne'nfrontc."
1t Waa NOT q hOY it was g. Young girl