Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1896-07-10
A BEAUTIFUL MAN.

III tne StfeeJ ana Sture-tne bJrOnK, Ihlr,
God given beauty that even men like to
look ut.
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 II penny novelette, written by wom-
an.
He was one evening at Colonel and
Mrs. Wayne's, The music was COM
plicated, and tho women were plain,
and he-wishing these conditions had
been reversed-sat with his elbow rest
ing ON n little table near him and hand
lifted up. looking at his nails Itsoothed
him and prevented his yawning from
becoming unmanageably frequent.
May see them, toop" said won-
ans voice at his side. 1t was u clear
young voice, and when he turned around
to look ut its owner no was disap-
pointed.
II am II 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 30 smiling, not know.
ing exactly what to say, and she bent
her head little to one side and looked
at 1t.
The daughters of the house were play
ing long duet.
How dreadfully bored you are, F" 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, p" she said in pretty voice
that ought TO have belonged to some one
else, II want you to come and SEQ me
that is, 4" she corrected laughingly, II
want you to come and let me SEQ you.
want to paint you. please. " And here
scftening of the pretty voice. you
are SO very beautiful! l am an exceed
ingly clever painter. you know, 30 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 me'' she would say,
pressing both her hands to her heart.
And if no turned pale she told him to
spoil her tints
81 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.
81 love you" repeated Narcissus.
"Now your curls are all tangled up
on the wrong side, and IL will take me
an hour to fasten tho lilies on your
head, " she said Grossly. And with light,
turpentiny fingers and with IA long brush
In her mouth she patted him into shape
again. "There, look down now and
smile.
~ shall try and catch smallpox" said
Henri Pierre, opening his eyes, "or get
burned in fire and bo all SCARED and
hideous. Then you will love me for
something better than my beauty"
""Then shall not love you at all, "
said the girl, with u decided little dab
OF the brush. go to sleep. Here comes
Diana.
It was not Diana II 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 10
me, " 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 "a sonnets,
and my brain is absolutely dried up
Lend him to me for three weeks. I'll
send him back unimpaired. Heayensl
What IL face he has''
He learned all her poems by heart,
and recited 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 capricious kindness.
II love you," he said.
Gha lantybed ,.nntnnf ttyifh fba
gift Of gifts the gods have blessed you
with-your beauty-your improbable,
your perfect, your magnificent beauty. !"
Hang my beauty" cried Henri
Pierre passionately. II want to be loved
loved for no reason-lovedi Not be-
cause my nose il straight, and my hair
browny yellow, and my eyes sky bluei
But loved with closed eyes, blindly, un-
reasonably.
II am sorry" said Lydia, who had
finished her twenty fourth sonnet that
day; but cannot help you. And II
you take my advice you will never be
angry or in earnest about anything 1t
spoils your features. "
"Chi dice Gu II stolle 30 'lucsnte,
Nun sape stuocchie ca tn tiens'nfronte"
1t was not boy, it was a young girl
singing, and little boy who was with
her played the guitar. Henri Pierre
threw them down shilling The little
fellow Immediately stopped playing Il
pick it up, but the girl went on singing
In her shrill, young voice:
"Scetato. Caruli. ca Paria o docei
Next day they came again.
"Chi dice ca Ii stelle so 'lucente,
rose the limpid voice Of the little stree
singer like the continuation Of a dream
He threw up the window, and, sur
enough, there they stood, the girl an
the little boy.
Henri Pierre looked at the girl an
then walked up to the large mirror ths
reached from the ceiling TO the Roun