Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1896-06-05

Anisette twisted the silk into her bright
| hair, covered her worn velvet bodice with
the drapery suspended from her neck the
bag with the spangles and finally, when
all was complete, stood on chair in order
to see herself in a misty and deprecating
mirror. BlacEwood watched her with
contempt, contrasting her with the intel.
lectual deicacy of his painted figure.
| Anisette startled him from his reflections
! by balancing herself on one foot and land
| ing on the other close to his chair, with
one hand held out in saucy little move
ment of appeal.
A dark flush mounted into Blackwood's
face. His hand made mechanical jour
ney to his pocket.
"Only little--a very little,' she de-
manded.
Blackwoods search brought to light one
silver piece of 10 sous and half dozen
coppers. His sunken eyes blazed at the
girl, who was about to possess herself of
them.
"That is all have" he said harshly.
Anisette hesitated, signing deeply, but
her eyes were riveted upon the silver piece.
"Lend them to me-" she said II will
bring them back to you tomorrow, or, bet
ter still, this evening at -
| With sudden, swift sweep her little
hand grasped the coin, and then Anisette,
laughing like child threw him kiss
and fled
Blackwood hurled the door to with his
foot. He glanced around the room like
| an animal, breathing heavily. His lips
moved into suppressed excavations against
her, against art, against the whole &C.
cursed city.
| Anisette ran out of the dark impasse in
to the Boulevard st. Michel. The streets
were crowded; ribbons of colored paper
| f1uttered from the windows and had caught
in the branches of the bare trees A
Pierrot with an artists beard caught her
and rained shower of confetti over her
head and shoulders. She snatched the bag
from his hand and pelted him in return,
using her elbows to wedge her way through
the crowd.
She invested her ill gotten wealth reck-
lessly in supply of colored bags. of con-
fetti, which she now proceeded to sell ut
exorbitant prices with a rafting accom-
paniment of sharp jests and questionable
compliments. A slim harlequin in black
and yellow satin slipped his arm about her
waist, and they danced together down the
street. The harlequin aided her sales, ex
acting even more extravaganza profits. He
became an adept in smashing bags of con-
fetti in the faces of too affectionate pur-
chasers, adding last touch of contempt
by tipping up Anisette's little face and
kissing her himself.
Harlequin was merry soul, and the
droll bag with the spangles began to weigh
with the coppers dropped into it. Anisette
invested in new supplies, drifting with the
motley crowd over the bridge of St.
Michel, fighting her way to the great
boulevards, where her little soul famed
with joy, where she and harlequin forgot
to make money and simply gave them
selves to the exuberance of the moment.
What gay, brilliant, fine thing it was to
be alive.
Anisette knew no exhaustion, but as the
lights sprang into the night she suddenly
paused In her rapacious and inexhaustible
energy.
"V'la," she whispered to harlequin, 81
have enough. I go. Amuse thyself, Co.
rhine. Thou art"-
She slipped her arm about the neck of
"For whom is 1t, all this?" said harle-
quin, rattling the spangled bag.
Anisette laughed and shrugged her
shoulders. "For poor devil of an artist,
who owes me for ten poses. He paints me
as an angel. am as much alive to him
as the Holy Mother to a priest"
"And will be as much alive as the
Holy Mother if am not back in time to
make my good man his bowl Of soup. Till
tomorrow, Anisette!"
"Till tomorrow, Corinne!"
Anisette slipped away into side street.
She showered confetti as she ran. The
blood was flying through her veins and
singing in her dizzy little head. The air
struck her hot checks gratefully, and she
found her breath as she darted in and out
and around corners, through the circuitous
route she had chosen.
"What would he say?' she thought, that
strange, grave man, who starved and fell
into a rage and was one moment in heaven
and the next in hell; who gnawed his mus
tache and bit his lips and shook like a
drunkard over his work, but who painted,
painted, painted He would be great
man, without doubt, or perhaps, re-
Elected Anisette sagely, he would die some
day with pistol hole in his head, like that
other poor George she had known with the
droll American name. At least for once
this door George would have a dinner-as
much as she could carry.
The sky was studded with stars-twin-
king with enjoyment, thought Anisette-
the air tingled with frosty radiance; the
moon had risen behind the bare light trees
Of the Luxembourg gardens
As the clock struck the half hour after
Anisette turned iftp the house where
Blackwood had his studio on the top floor.
The concierge had joined the jewellers, and
the small flicker of gas which usually en-
phasized the darkness was not yet lit.
Anisette felt her way carefully. She had
her arms full. There was window on
one landing, and her shadow, laden with
bundles, threw long grotesque blackness
on the opposite wall She swallowed
little burst Of laughter.
Before Blackwood's door she paused to
get her breath. 1t was intensely still.
Her hands were full, SO she knocked gen.
thy with her heel. There was no answer,
and Anisette, trembling with impatience,
deposited her bundles upon the floor, and
putting her cheek against the door called
his name in voice .0at gradually sank to
q whisper. An orange rolled out from a
bag and dropped with soft, melancholy
distinctness from stair to stair. One of
the beautiful oranges! Her heart began
to beat heavily. There was no sound, no
sound from within. She turned the handle
softly, and it yielded to her touch.
The light streamed from the great I'M
L.
terrible, illuminated vision the ragged line
of knife cut quivering down the beauti-
full painted angel and stretched at the foot
Of his easel black figure-the face Ikea
white blot in the darkness, the head fallen
back, with hole in 1t, like that other
poor George with the droll American
name.-Jane Hyde in San Francisco Argo-
naue.