The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1896-04-02

| Anisette had posed all the morning ut the
Julian Academy. When the clock struck
noon she had stepped from the platform
with the assumed Indifference of an ex-
/ perienced model. 1t had not been fatigue
| that had made her tremble with eagerness o
| exchange the close studio air for the sun
+, shine of the Champs -Elysees. 1t was Mardi
| Gras, Mard Gras in Paris-tbat is to say,
| the sun dazzled, the river cleaned, the air
| sparkled with irresistible hilarity; the very
| trees on the boulevard threw out gay little
ribbons of temptation.
Anisette had promised to pose all the
| afternoon for George Blackwood; but before
that she would have at least one glimpse of
the revel-satisfy her thirsty little soul
with one hastily snatched swallow of enjoy
ment. So she ran the gauntlet of the
crowded streets, held here. caught there !;
cajoled threatened, pursued, until she es-
capped into the impasse off the Boulevard
st. Michel, where Backwood lived. She
arrived at the studio flushed, disheveIed
and breathless, with her absurd little hat
and her shabby velvet cape all powdered
with gold and silver dust.
George Blackwood had been pacing up
and down in a rage of impatience, but at her
entrance he threw himself into chair with
a shout of relie!.
"Enfin, Anisette" he cried; "but it is
adorable of you TO come to-day"
"V'la!" said Anisette, proudly; II prom
ised ] would come. am here. j under
stand how much depends upon me. Besides,
must be in the Champ de Mars as well as
that peacock Celestine, posing for your
friend at No. %. As for the folly outside,
that is all child's play" She waved her
hand with superb disdaiD, tossed her hat
across the room and began at once TO pre-
pare for her pose.
Selling the palette, Blackwood seized his
tubes with an unsteady hand. He was a
young fellow, but his % years had been all
"stnrm md drang." He had worn face,
with high cheek bones; his forehead, where
it was visible under the tbatch of grayish
blonde hair, was prematurely lined; and
the eyes, which shOHe under overbanging
brows blinked and stared like those of n
cat in the dark. At once imaginative and
critical, he was a victim of that moral
hypocbondria, morbid self-analysis; with
q giants physique, he combined a woman's
sensibilities, wOmans power of concen-
trated PASSION.
Intensely preOccupied with himself, he
gave but a perfunctory attention to the ex-
periences so many other men were eager to
diate upon for his benefit; as a consequence,
he could number his acquaintances on his
fngers-he had no friends He lived alone,
drinking innumerable cups of black coffee,
smoking cigarets as uncousciously he
breaihed. painting early and late, painting
while he devoured his meals; painting
while he slept. He gave himself to his art
wholly and without reserve, but he would
make no concessions 10 his divinity, he
would not WOO her to come TO him, he would
compel her. Sometimes he succeeded 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 Testive horse he
cannot 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